I know every parent hates daylight savings time for the fact that it throws off an otherwise regular schedule. I didn't mind when the kids slept in past 7am. That happens so rarely as to warrant an almost never, and we feel like it is the most amazing gift from the universe when we actually are awakened by our internal clocks and not one of our two girls wiggling under our covers and trying to snuggle down as if we wouldn't notice their presence in our bed. Then the evenings come, and we try to put the girls to bed when the clock says that it is time. Of course, it went fairly well the first few days when we had sufficiently worn them out outside during the day. Then came Monday.
Andy had a meeting for all the soccer coaches in the youth soccer league that Annika is going to be playing in this spring. While he was gone, I put the girls to bed in the usual way. One hour later, Annika was up for the fourth time and I was sick of climbing the stairs while reasoning with her that it was indeed bedtime and she needed to stay there. I caved. It was not my finest parenting moment, but it certainly produced some adorableness.
"Mama, let's stick our tongues out."
"Now make a silly face."
"Look Mama, I'm upside down." (and not tired at all!)
"I have another silly fish face for you."
"No more pictures Mommy!"
"I'm so glad Daddy's not here."
"Let's take a serious one."
Shortly after this last one was taken, she scampered up the stairs because I told her that her dad would be home in five minutes. I told her it would be our secret, but I totally caved when Andy came home. I showed him the pictures and he just smiled that knowing smile. He knew I loved ever second of our "secret" time together and he was right.