"Mommy, Mommy! Dress day, dress day, dress day! It's time to get up!"
"Oof!" you grunted as a small, five year old bullet launched herself from the bedroom door, landing on you and the bed in a flying tackle that would have put a linebacker to shame.
"Sophie! You know you're not supposed to jump on the bed!" John chastised lightly, sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the night stand.
"It's fine, John. I... *yawn*... I needed to get up anyway," you assured your fiance, failing to hold back a yawn as you did so. "What time is it?"
"... just after 5:00."
"... Sophie, sweetie, we're not meeting Grandma until eleven."
Your stepdaughter was clearly not listening, whisper-shouting "Dress Day!" and bouncing lightly on the mattress between you two.
"You'd think this was Christmas morning," John chuckled as he swung his legs to the floor. "Do you want breakfast, or are you going to shower first."
"Neither. I need coffee."
"Sure. I'll get the pot going, and get this little terror something to eat."
"I'll meet you down there," you replied as John and Sophia left the room. Placing your hands on the mattress, you pushed yourself upright with a soft grunt. It tended to take you a little longer then the other two to get out of bed in the morning, given you were slightly heavier.
Only slightly, mind.
"Well, maybe more then slightly," you thought as you looked sidelong at the nearby scale. How much did you weight again?
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