They were supposed to sleep in until the new 7am, maybe even give me a little bit of a rush to get everything ready in time because we've lost an hour. But no.
It's the one day of the year you need all the sleep you can get and the thieving little buggers steal even more sleep from you.
And then in the evenings they won't go to sleep until well after 7.30pm.
Oh sure, I was happy to take them going to bed at 6.30pm for a few weeks, but now 7.30pm feels so late.
Or I'm just really old. I honestly can't be sure anymore.
So old. And so, so tired.
By the time you've got them into bed, you blink and it's 10pm but you're nowhere near being asleep.
I'm told that this stage will end. That one day it will be nice to have that extra time in the evening. One day I won't be so tired.
But evenings for people with kids are basically hell. No one deserves an extra hour of that!
One more hour for bath time and complaints about how the dinner you (mostly) lovingly prepared is "yucky".
Whining about how no one can pick up the toys left lying around because "they're too heavy", and how our girl (almost 5) won't share a bath with her brother (two-and-a-half).
"I don't want to have a bath with you, Fart," she'll hiss at him with the venom of an angry teenager.
She's been referring to him as "Fart" in the most awful tone lately.
As if he is nothing to her. The insult is not lost on him.
"I not a fart, I a big boy. Mummaaaaa, she call me a faaart," he whines.
It goes on and on like this until bedtime.
Oh, how I love bedtime.
