"Wakey-wakey, Mom," says the shadow next to my bed. "What time is it?" I inquire muzzily. "5:49 am. I guess I didn't need as much time as I though to get ready." This is an understatement. Barnacle Boy is fully dressed and ready to go on his 3-day class camping trip. He doesn't need to leave for almost an hour. Think he might be excited?
5:41? It's not a typo. It's the total number of hours of sleep I had last night.