School mornings? Dragging them out of bed is a hostage negotiation. But Saturday? SATURDAY at 6 AM they're wide awake, bouncing on my bed like it's Christmas.
"It's the WEEKEND, babies. The whole point is sleeping in."
Blank stares. Then someone asks for pancakes.
So I make the pancakes, half asleep, and after they're finally — FINALLY — occupied, I take my morning exhale and accept it: my body doesn't know what sleeping in is anymore. It forgot. It's gone.
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