Morgan and I have been wiped out lately. The kind of tired where you wake up and pray that coffee could levitate to your bed so you could sip it without having to make it. The "let's-go-back-to-bed-for-another-three-hours" tired. When he complained that we don't make it to bed early enough anymore I had to ask him where his dentures and cane were. "Old man," said I. Last night we discovered the problem. It was 9:45 and looked like dusk and on the down-side the sun comes up earlier in the summer so there was less sleeping time. No wonder we'd been getting to bed so late and feeling so tired at sun-up. And yes, we do have to get up at sun-up because that is when little Miss Emma wakes up. I swear that kid is solar powered.
So, Morgan has just left to go to work and Emma decides I've slept long enough. She wails. The time is now 6:23 am. Just shoot me. I let her out of her room and put her in bed with me. She looks at me and briefly imitates lying down and resting. Then she pops up and begins yammering nonsense and doesn't stop until 7:00 am. Why is little one still alive? Because at one point I open one eye to peer at her and she is looking straight at me with this huge "I love you more than sunshine" smile.
Now how can I be upset with that? Pass the coffee, please.