The Tale of a Saturday Morning

For months we have been begging the girls not to wake up their brother when they wake up before him on the weekend. They haven't listened. They usually wake up around 7 am and come into our room and stand next to my side of the bed and stare at me while I sleep. This is creepy. Just plain creepy. Most times they wake me up with the staring. I roll over and catch them out of the corner of my eye and it freaks me out. It makes me wish for the days when they had the child safety on their door knob and had to knock and call for me, "Mama! Mama! We're up! Can we come out now?". Big sigh. I miss those days. It was a much more pleasant way to wake up.

If, by chance, I sleep through the staring, they begin to whisper, "Mama? Mama. We're hungry." Until I respond with a cranky, "Go get a poptart/granola bar/crackers out of the pantry. And don't wake up your brother." They reply with racing and pushing out of the room, slamming the door and taking off like a heard of elephants down the stairs, while talking/screaming/woohooing/arguing. Inevitably, Q wakes up within 30 seconds of their departure from our room.

Yesterday, Chris picked up a coffee cake to have for breakfast. He cut two slices of it, left the coffee cake in the package on the island, and gave the girls strict orders to come downstairs (silently) in the morning without waking us - or their brother - up and fix themselves breakfast.

Quinn slept until almost 8:30 this morning and we assumed that they girls had followed the directions to a T. I commended them on a job well done. Chris had other news for me. Casey ate her slice of coffee cake for breakfast, but Chan....well, Chan, instead of eating her slice of cake, well, she ate the rest of the coffee cake. Big sigh.