It’s now 7:20, and all is quiet in the house. Baby Veronica has gone down in her swing and I’m just drinking coffee and doing a little typing. This would only be moderately surprising, except that this is the switchover for daylight savings time and, as far as my kids know, it’s 8:20. What the hell are my kids – both kids – doing still sleeping at 8:20 biological time?
This is the time when you start thinking about carbon monoxide leaks. Or clowns stealing into their rooms in the dead of night to scoop them up and sell them on the black market. Or they wished to be big and now they’re 30 years old and working at a toy store in Manhattan.
Or, maybe, they’re just sleeping. Maybe a weekend with Halloween and post-Halloween candy consumption took its toll and they’re little bodies are broken. It could be. I’m pretty sure it’s happened before. I suppose.
Of course, I could go check. But, especially with Rocky, checking if they’re awake is the equivalent of guaranteeing that they are awake. It doesn’t take much of a sound to wake that little guy up. And the sound of a door opening? Forget about it. He’s up and he’s rocking and we have to be on our game.
So yeah, when weighing the possibility that the kids are toiling away in a traveling circus versus starting the three kid zoo that is our house any earlier than necessary? That’s an easy decision. I mean, what happened happened, right? No reason to disturb the peace to find out bad news. Let’s not collapse that wave function a minute earlier than necessary.
(editor’s note: this post is being posted at 9am because the kids woke up at 7:21. But the point still seems valid)