*Name the movie.

Well, here I am, sitting at my desk at home at the ungodly hour of 7am. OK, maybe it’s not that ungodly, but tomorrow when we turn the clocks back and it will be SIX AM ON A SUNDAY, then it will really be ungodly. That’s right. God did not reach her big finger down and touch this hour and thus make it suitable for sainthood, she turned her back and sniffed. Thus, it is ungodly.

But why are you up at 7am? You cry as you read, probably in the daylight hours. How I envy you.

Because ever since Ethan started full time pre-school, he now has to get up at ungodly hours of the morning, and even though I told him and told him last night that tomorrow is the WEEKEND, and the WEEKEND means that (“Syrup!!!” “Well, that too.”) we sleep until IT GETS LIGHT OUTSIDE. (Thank god for winter, when it doesn’t get light until 8 or 8:30.)

It could be worse. In fact, it was worse. A few weeks ago, Ethan started presenting himself at my bedside at 4:45am, fully dressed and ready to go to school. We went through a series of talks about how we could get him to sleep/stay in bed longer. I drew a little EXPO pen line on his (analog) clock pointing at six, so that he could look at that and tell whether or not it was “awake time” by comparing the little hand to the line. No good. I don’t think he ever looks at that clock. We also finally broke him of the need to sleep with his overhead light on. I took out all the lightbulbs but one, but that sucker was still just WAY too bright for anyone to sleep comfortably. We would always come in and turn it off after he was asleep, but when he wakes up at 4:30, goes over and turns on his light, it’s like noon in there and I wouldn’t go back to sleep either. (Who am I kiding. Yes I would.)

Anyway, so we spent a week of dealing with crisises of tears at bedtime everytime we turned off the light (the closet light stays on, and he has a nightlight. We even gave him a flashlight a while ago, but it broke). We had to leave his bedroom door open, but I’m happy to say as of last night, the tears had stopped, and I even closed his door when I left.

So really, I guess I should be grateful. At least now he’s getting up at the same time as when we get up for school. 6am is a hell of a lot better than 4:30.

Still.

I WANTED TO SLEEP IN THIS MORNING.

James is SO getting up with him tomorrow.

Actually, I didn’t need to get up, per se. Ethan flicked on the 1000 watt hall light (he must have every light on in whatever room he passes through) on his way downstairs. I was awake enough to realize it and got up to investigate in time to see him heading his way downstairs. If I had just gone to bed, he probably would have played down there happily until it was light outside, at which time he would have come and informed us. But NOOOOOOOOOO, I had to call him back up, tell him it was still sleeping time, and then lay down with him in his bed. The next half hour was me knowing I wasn’t going to sleep while he laid there wiggling, coughing every now and then, and picking his nose and eating it. After it hit 7 and I knew it was fruitless for both of us, I told him he could go downstairs and play, put some socks on him, instructed him to wash his hands, WITH SOAP, and off he went. I went back to bed, but I knew it was still fruitless for me.

What can I do at 7am in the morning without waking anyone up?

My house is always a disaster given the fact that we both work. LIke that’s the reason. It was always a disaster when I stayed home too. But I couldn’t launch into cleaning because a) i didn’t feel like it, and b) it might wake up James or Jocelyn and that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So there you go. 7am Saturday nonsense blogging. I should have gone downstairs and introduced Ethan to the glory of Saturday morning cartoons.

Oh well. There’s always tomorrow.