Birds twitter joyfully in the trees and early morning sunlight streams innocently across our bedroom walls when I hear it:
Mom? Mo-o-om? MAHM!
The call may vary sometimes; usually, lately, it’s the mid-conversation climax of hearing the caller “playing” with his brother, until the thumping escalates to a definite clunking of a body or piece of furniture making contact with the floor.
I’d say the noises make for a great wake-up alarm, but only if ringtone companies wish to wake their users with a day’s worth of stress from the get-go.
No, mornings are not the best time of day.
The best time is not difficult to discover. All that a potential Sherlock need do is sift through the overwhelming photographic evidence in our electronic picture stockpile. What is the most frequent time that I think, Aw, how sweet! -and save the moment for all eternity?
Okay -we also have an inordinate number of each of them attempting to eat yogurt for the first time. That; and times when they’re reading, riding in the car and reading, or watching each other game on a screen with zombie-like expressions.
OBVIOUSLY, my favorite times are when they are holding still and not destroying something (or someone).
So you can keep your incessant twittering of morning birds. Take back your glowing sunrise and bad alarm ideas. I’ll take what rays of sunset filter through our neighbors’ houses and our tightly-drawn blinds. I’ll get what Nature can yell, from outside, over the sounds of, “But I don’t wanna go to bed yeeeet.”
For, when all are FINALLY quiet and asleep, I know I have a good, solid eight hours of uninterrupted “free time.” True, I ought to also sleep -and sometimes do!- but the thought of the potential freedom alone gets my vote every time.
The best time of day isn’t day at all. It’s night.