Mama makes time fly

I love winter! Not just because of snow or Christmas or the end of bikini season--no. I love the time changes.

Rascal only knows about one hour, which is 9 o'clock.

As in: "Tweenie, I don't care if you haven't fed your Webkinz. It's 9 o'clock, time for bed now!"

Or: "Husband, my shift ends at 9 o'clock and then you have to stuff Rascal back in bed when he gets out." This announcement is usually sufficient to send a stealthily sneaking Rascal scrambling for his room, as Husband doesn't read stories or sing Old Macdonald or whatnot. He lays down the law with a silent, sternly pointed index finger.

Either way, 9 o'clock in Rascal's world means "get your butt into bed this second!"

In summer the sun is still teasing the horizon at that hour, and bedtime routines are generally more rambunctious and difficult to enforce. This problem is naturally resolved as the calendar flips into the three-syllable months.

So, after a naughty supper-table episode, I might glance at the darkened windows and announce:

"Rascal, it's 9 o'clock! If you're a very good boy, Mama will let you have a quick bath first!"

Or Rascal, when pestered by Kye to share his cars, might come to me and point at his brother asking, "Mama, is it 9 o'clock?"

"Close enough, let's go boys!"

Yesterday, it was dark at 7:14. Oops, I mean-- at 9 o'clock. Only 17 more sleeps until Daylight Saving Time ends!

*evil laugh*