GOOD MORNING TO YOU. . . .

Are anyone else's kids "morning people"? Our children definitely are. It takes them all of about 15 seconds for them to go from totally asleep to 100 miles an hour. They definitely did not take after their parents, as neither Chris nor I are early morning folks. In fact, when we were first married, Chris worked second shift hours for several years. He loved the hours, but once we had Maggie, working day shift hours became a lot more desirable so that we could do things as a family.

Our kids scoff at the idea of sleeping in. On Saturday, when most people would love to catch a few extra zzzzz's, our kids' little internal alarm clocks go off and have them springing out of bed about 6AM. As an example of our superior parenting, we have found that we can buy ourselves an extra hour of sleep on Saturday mornings by turning on the TV to the Disney channel the night before when we go to bed. When they wake up on Saturday mornings now, most of the time they head downstairs without distubing us and get sucked into the glow of the TV, contentedly passing an hour watching riveting programming, such as Little Einsteins or The Backyardigans. About 7AM though, the peaceful bliss of the morning evaporates and we are awakened either by: A) someone about 2 inches from our face inquiring about breakfast OR B) the sounds of the squabbling coming from downstairs as the girls get bored with TV and start bickering over the blankets or something equally significant.

I've never understood how they can be so chipper and cheery first thing in the morning, especially because I never have been a morning person. When my brother and I were little, we used to occasionally get all the cereal boxes out of the pantry and build a wall between us at the kitchen table during breakfast so we wouldn't have to look at each other. If that doesn't speak volumes about my attitude about the early morning, I don't know what does.

Maggie, who is not known for excessive periods of solitude, is always especially talkative in the morning. During the week, I am generally up before she is, but usually only by a matter of minutes. As soon as she hears me rattling around in the bathroom, she is right there with me. This morning, I was not quite awake when she started in with what Papa Dale refers to as "nattering," which I assume is a Southernism for talking incessantly. She started by giving me a run-down of who she wanted to play with at recess today, of who had what for lunch yesterday, and then she talked about what she hoped would be for lunch today. All of this and my eyes weren't even fully open yet.

I suppose it could be worse. . . I could have to contend with getting two grouchy kids off to school in the morning. Hmm. . .perhaps this would be a good time to apologize to my mom?