"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.
I've got a couple of those. When Jumper (now 11 and the greatest horsewoman of the world, or at least Chester county) was 4, she would wake me at 5;30 on Saturday to "watch me ride my bike." I learned a whole new world.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy this--in a few short years he will be a teenager who wants to sllep through Noon.