...my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. [It could have been worse, you know, I could have put the theme song from Barney in your head. Oops, did I just do that?]
Yes, it's sunny around here. And the sun comes out early, early, early. And it doesn't go down until late, propelling Youngest to always whine, "It's not my bedtime. It's still light outside." I'm not sure if he'll ever get the fact that we, in fact, would prefer he'd go to bed at 6 o'clock so we could have some peace.
The entire household is staying up later and getting up earlier. Our body clocks are being fine-tuned thanks to Senor Sol. Pete and I are still getting up a tad earlier than any of the random children, but they're coming darn close to rising before us.
As we will be heading to England before the solstice, it's safe to say that it will only be worse. It seems like it stays light there until 11 p.m., only to get light again at 4 a.m. We're already going to be jet-lagged, with enough patience to perhaps fill a thimble, and we're going to have to contend with those things we call offspring being awake at all hours of the light.
I'm usually not one to pine for a different way of life, but I think I'd give just about anything to have it be the dreary, dull darkness of winter right now. At least I'd be the only one up at 5:30 in the morning. Well, me and the mutton-head, of course.
Now, go out and enjoy the sun. Tell Senor Sol that I sent you.