Lazy Sunday morning...

The fantasy: a lazy Sunday, no alarms to go off, no children to drop off at school. Everyone gradually waking up after a good night's sleep and slowly making their way to the family bed for a little snuggle time before getting up for some made-from-scratch breakfast to be shared around the table.

The reality: Sunday morning. The children are hardwired with some sort of hint-of-daylight sensing circadian rhythm which causes their eyes to fly open at 7:15, and they belly flop into the parental sleeping space. Their motors are set on maximum, recharged by the six hours of sleep which seems to be all they need. The baby grabs his brother's hair. The Destroyer is using his father's (who is playing dead and hoping that they'll eventually give up) face as a stepping stool. After 15 minutes of listening to the parents say things like: "Ow, stop kicking me in the face," "Your brother's ear is not a handle," and "If you can't lay still you have to go back to your own bed," The Baby will get tired of being trampled by his elder, and decide that if the whole family is here in bed, then that means that the toilet is undefended and now would be a good time to get in a little splashing. Reluctantly the Mother rises to shut the bathroom door before collapsing back in bed, thus diverting Ragnarbaby's attention to the dresser, which he systematically empties. Sensing that he is missing out on fun The Destroyer joins his brother to make a nest in the pile of clothes. When the parents still fail to rise, the blankets are pulled unceremoniously from their bed and added to the "fort" which is being assembled in the hallway. Realizing that if she doesn't get some coffee soon, her spawn might not live to see another pre-dawn morning, the mother stumbles downstairs, hampered by her children who have latched on to her nether limbs as soon as her feet hit the floor. "I want trick or treat candy for breakfast!" The Destroyer yells over and over again.

Ragnar...hey, we slept in for a whole half hour, right?