These are the words I hear myself saying Monday morning. It is barely seven and even the sun seems to be complaining today. It is way too cold outside and my brain has not warmed up yet. I don't know what I just said or what it means, only that it came as a response to the arguing sounds I kept hearing from the other side of the house. I am in the kitchen and they have been tasked to brush their teeth. The problem isn't so much that I'm speaking gibberish, but that I am trying to deal with a situation from across the house. They probably haven't heard me and have no clue that the reason I am getting frustrated is because I've been intervening by distance. Soliloquy-ing the cupboards with half awake gabble. I sometimes find myself playing this game of distance parenting, where assuming and follow-through get shuffled to suit my needs. Where words fly away at whim regardless of destination or purpose.
"What did you say?" My daughter asks as she strolls into the kitchen moments later, a smudge of toothpaste on the side of her mouth. "We didn't hear you."
"Nothing," I answer and smile.
I am grateful for this lesson. To be brought back to the moment. To realize words have better purpose than to float aimlessly through corridors and doorframes, unable to reach their destination.