Our grandfather clock is the hero of the day (thus far). Its melodious donging penetrated my unconsciousness at straight up 7 a.m. That's the time the clock "wakes up" from its overnight silence mode, as I can't handle hearing it on the quarter-hour all night long. But 7 a.m. is not the time I'm supposed to wake up--on a school day. (Exactly how did I sleep through hubby's early-morning prep-for-work ritual?)
When panic mode kicked in, about three seconds after I mentally chastized the clock for waking me on a ...."oh &$^%&! It's not Saturday!"...I jumped out of bed and ran to the kids' rooms. Thanks to their extra 45 minutes of sleep (they are very welcome (not)), they popped up quickly. Nate led the charge since he knew what 7:04 meant. Clothes on, baby's diaper changed, shoes found, baby's milk poured, lunches packed, bags loaded, pop tarts grabbed, and we were in the car backing out of the driveway by 7:17.
That is only about 4 minutes later than usual. Translated: ON TIME!
We all laughed, somewhat hysterically, I realize, but still it was laughter, most of the way to school as we congratulated ourselves on accomplishing the impossible. Between bites of pop tarts, of course. They each had about 4 minutes left to chew minty gum in an effort--vain, I'm sure--to improve the quality of their breath.
But they. are. at. school.
Thank you, Grandfather Clock.