My kids got NO respect for Saturday morning. -sigh-

I remember Saturdays when I was a kid. Friday night, my mom had breakfast bowls and cereal boxes on the table for the next morning. We kids would wake up at an indecent hour to watch our lineup, and tend to ourselves for the morning. We got our own breakfast, and settled our own disputes. We knew better than to break the cardinal rule: Do NOT wake up the parents. Not because so-and-so took your seat, or it was YOUR turn to pick the cartoon, or because you want to know if you can have that 4th bowl of Captain Crunch. And heaven help you if you intruded upon their slumbering sanctuary over the cereal prize. Heads. Would. Roll. You better be bleeding and needing stitches if you dared to break that sacred silence in the back of the house. Nothing short of an ER visit could justify poking your head in that dark, fan-whirring sleepfest.

And oooooh, do I get that now.

Right now, King Pen and I take turns on whose Saturday it is to sleep in, although I do it less in general. He has to get up earlier every day for the work week, so I don’t mind letting him sneak in a few extra hours.

Hohum.

You better believe I’m counting down the days till my kids are old enough to handle a morning on their own, though. Oh, sweet, sweet day.

Okay, I’m off for more coffee. At this point, if you can’t beat ’em… join ’em.

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