In my seven years experience as a parent, I’ve found that it isn’t the Sunday of Daylight Savings that is difficult. On Sunday morning we can all sleep in and don’t notice the missed hour. But on Monday morning, when the alarm clock sounds, it becomes painfully obvious that we went to bed too late the night before and didn’t get enough shut eye. Here’s how my seven-year-old and twin four-year-olds handled their wake-up times this morning:
“C,” I whispered quietly, climbing into bed next to him for our morning cuddles. I sang Good Morning to You and scratched his back as usual. When that didn’t work, I put my hand on his shoulder and rocked him back and forth. Ten minutes later I got up and turned on the lights. “Okay, C, time to get up!” Ten more minutes passed before C rolled out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
As C stumbled to the bathroom, P threw open her door and let out a sound that sounded like a cross between a yell and a growl. I quickly closed the door behind her, hoping her sister would stay asleep longer, and scooped her up in my arms. “Come back to sleep with me,” she cried.
Not much later, I heard A rustling around as she got out of bed. She stormed into the living room and stomped her foot. “WHY ARE YOU ALL AWAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?!?!” she demanded. Nothing I said could convince her that it was, in fact, morning.
Thanks, Daylight Savings, for a great Monday morning!