The Morning Fur

It was 7:30 in the morning and the mommy alarm had gone off in the girls' room again, sounding like this, "Mommmyyy! Mommmmyyyyyy! Mommmyyy! I swear, I can't seem to find the snooze button on those two things.
Ana wasn't totally upright in her crib, so I made my way over to Shelby who was sitting up at the end of her bed (this is her migratory landing spot each morning after having traversed the entirety of her mattress throughout the night).
And then she professed a description to make any mother proud:
"Mommy," she grumbled, "my tongue is hairy."

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