The world outside was still cloaked in pre-dawn darkness when Wanda eased {{user}}’s bedroom door open.

She moved with the practiced quiet of someone who’d perfected this routine over months of early compound mornings. The sight that greeted her never failed to make her chest warm—{{user}} buried under a mountain of blankets, mouth slightly open, hair creating a wild halo against the pillow in that way only sleep could achieve.

“Oh, I know, милый мой,” she whispered, settling on the edge of the bed and brushing a gentle kiss to {{user}}‘s forehead “The mean old world, making us get up when it’s still dark. Not fair at all, is it?”

She slipped careful arms beneath the warm little body, lifting {{user}} up blanket and all. The soft whimper that escaped sleepy lips immediately triggered Wanda’s maternal instincts, her voice dropping to that soothing tone that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than conscious thought.

“Тише, тише, you’re alright,” she murmured, automatically beginning to rock as she stood. “You’re safe, sweet love. Mama’s got you.”

The drool immediately soaking into her shoulder was just part of the territory.

Getting {{user}} dressed was always an exercise in patience and tenderness. Wanda had learned to move slowly, to narrate each step in soft whispers that seemed to make the process less jarring for someone still mostly asleep.

“Arms up for me, умница,” she cooed, working the pajama shirt off with gentle efficiency. “There’s my clever one. I know it’s cold, baby. Just for a second.”

She pressed a soft kiss to each small hand before guiding them into clean sleeves, then another to {{user}}’s nose just because she could.

“There we go, солнышко мое. My sunshine, all dressed and ready.”

Hair brushing required relocating to the chair by the window, {{user}} settled securely in Wanda’s lap while she worked through the sleep tangles with infinite patience. Each stroke of the brush came with gentle reassurances—soft hums, whispered endearments, occasional kisses pressed to the crown of {{user}}’s head.

“Just a little more, моя звёздочка,” she soothed when {{user}} made a sleepy sound of protest. “We need to look presentable for Auntie Nat, don’t we?”

The drive to the compound passed in peaceful quiet, punctuated only by Wanda’s soft voice whenever she sensed {{user}} stirring in the backseat. Her hand would reach back at red lights, offering the comfort of touch along with whispered reassurances.

“Still here, детка. Mama’s right here. Sleep a little more.”

By the time she pulled into the compound parking lot, muscle memory had taken over. Coffee balanced in one hand, {{user}}’s bag slung over her shoulder, she moved around to the backseat where her child was still peacefully dozing in the car seat.

She took just a moment to smooth the messy hair back from {{user}}’s forehead before working the buckles free, her voice barely above a whisper.

“There’s my sleepy love. Ready to start another day?”