Witches, ghosts, vampires, nothing. Here's what I'm really afraid of: the end of Daylight Savings Time.
I remember when I used to love the "fall back" half of the "fall back, spring forward" occasions. Spring forward was lousy because you lost an hour of sleep, which was particularly painful when I was in college and needed my extra hour of sleep on Sunday morning to make up for Saturday night. (And for my fellow Rhodents: why did it always seem to happen during Rites of Spring? Could someone not have seen that coming and done something about it?) But, fall back = sleeping late! What could possibly be bad about that, right? Yeah, then I had a baby, a baby who doesn't really care what time it is when he wakes up. 7 a.m., 8 a.m., 6 a.m. Who cares when you're in diapers? William may own a wristwatch, but as anyone who's ever seen it knows, it doesn't really work. His little internal bioclock isn't subject to the whims of Congress.
So, we just put William to be an hour later than usual in the (probably vain) hope that he'll sleep in an extra hour tomorrow and not wake up at his customary time. Which would still be better than the 5:45 wakeup call we got today, right as I was blearily stumbling around, trying to get out of the house so I could volunteer at the local Race for the Cure. Who knows what that was all about. I am hoping it was just a strange freakout that will never happen again.
I guess we'll see. I know that David and I could really use the extra sleep. We had a busy day today, what with the Race for the Cure and a birthday party for our little friend Leland. Leland's party was terrific. Too bad I was sort of a zombie from stumbling around since o'dark-thirty.
Speaking of Leland, here's a photo from her party today:
William made his daddy take him down the slide. A lot.