On Saturday morning, The Mayor woke up early.
[Like REALLY effing early.]
He opened his eyes, and yelled,
K went running to his room only to find that he was in need of exactly nothing.
He just wanted to inform the household that he was awake.
K tried to encourage him to go back to sleep until he heard The Rooster.
The Mayor had woken his sister.
[Oh, sin of sins! May the greatest punishment rain down upon you! Fie! Fie!]
There is a digital clock in the children's bedroom and a post-it note with the number 7 written on it in thick, black marker is stuck to it's face covering the minutes.
Only the number representing the hour is visible.
"You are not aloud to wake up before the number on the clock matches the number on the note. If you DO wake up before the number is a seven, you have to be AS QUIET AS A MICE until the number is a seven."
K and I have both delivered this speech a number of times.
[You can see how well it's working.]
On Sunday morning, again, REALLY early, K and I heard,
This time it was The Rooster.
K marched sleepily to their room.
"It is NOT seven. It is NOT time to get up. You have two choices: play quietly or go back to sleep, but you may NOT wake up Mommy and Daddy until seven."
He came back to our bedroom and shut the door.
A while later I heard our bedroom door knob turning.
The Mayor and The Rooster crept in and crawled into our bed.
The Rooster stepped on my face to get between me and her father and The Mayor cuddled against my side on the edge of the bed.
"It's seven!" they whispered, triumphantly, giggling.
"We're a Family Sandwich!" Rooster said looking at all four of us in the one bed.
"Daddy and I are the bread," The Mayor observed.
"Yeah! And I'm the cheese and Mommy's the turkey," The Rooster finished.
Oh, tell me about it.
It's early in the morning and Mommy is, truly, most completely and utterly, useless.