6:25 a.m.

I don't really need an alarm clock. My children all wake up happy at 6:25 a.m. Nevermind that it is still dark outside (and throughout the house); or that Jonathan and I are sound asleep. Nevermind that James was up 2 hours ago with a fever; or that Ollie went to bed an hour later than usual. Nevermind that their genes handed down from Mommy MUST all say "NOT a morning person!!" in big huge letters. They are UP. (It's like Dr. Seuss says: "Up, up! Great day for up!") I sit in bed sleepily nursing Oliver (who woke up at 6:25 like clockwork) when I hear a sudden scream of joy. Ella is up and out of her new big girl bed. She shrieks and giggles as she galumphs around, pounding the back side of our closet wall. I later discover that James was sitting in bed, cleverly shining his flashlight on the wall and Ella was bounding around chasing after it. I manage to gain a few more quiet minutes in bed by getting Ella a stack of books and a flashlight of her own and tucking her into bed. She beams, all comfy and purple-pajamaed in her big girl bed. Both kids are quiet and content, reading by the soft glow of their flashlights. I return to bed and hear happy babbling and spitting from the crib. My quiet is lovely but short-lived. Soon we have five in our bed. Let another day begin!