The Quiet Morning Hours

I am not a morning person. There phrase, though pleasingly concise, fails to evoke the extent of my feelings.

Yes, yes, I can appreciate the quiet, dewy morning as much as the next fellow, but that is after I have, for some unaccountable reason, made it out of my bed, clothed, washed (perhaps in that order if I'm sufficiently sleepy) and made my way outside to apostrophize the dawn. More usually, I hit the snooze button, imprecate the dawn, and snag three to five ten minute intervals of sleep before grudgingly getting up and getting ready for work.

However, despite my general dislike for the dawn, rosy fingers and all, I generally need to be in to work by 8am, and I have this peculiar habit of wanting to eat breakfast and drink coffee before doing so. Thus, as the sun rises later each day, I've been finding myself getting up in the dark most mornings.

The one pay off for this is quiet -- something you don't get so often as the father of three girls under six. At the very least, if I have to get up in the dark in order to get ready for work, I get to get ready and eat my breakfast in silence, perhaps even read a few pages of a book.

And then the kids caught on. The last couple days they've been up and at it by 6:30 at the latest. And so as the sun rises, MrsDarwin and I try to satisfy the demands of a small riot of requests for various breakfast items, drawings of dinosaurs and princesses, help writing favorite words, etc. And instead of the virtuous feeling of getting up without hitting the snooze, the girls now arrive at the same time as the alarm goes off and settle the matter themselves.

Standard time can't come soon enough.