I've always been a morning person, myself; at the age of three, I'd be up having porridge with my dad before sunrise, and retiring for my nap by the time my friend woke up and came calling.
I'm still a morning person, but I consider "morning" seven o'clock. Little Bro considers it five freakin' thirty. He's not only awake, but ready to do a 100 burpees and seal the driveway. I barely have time to put socks on, because there's breakfast to be had. Trucks to line up. Couch cushions to hide under. Songs to be swung by the arms to.
Meanwhile, almost three hours later, Big Bro oozes out of bed and downstairs like cold molasses. It can take a good 10 minutes of sitting on the stairs to process reality before he's ready to even think about eating.
And when he does get to the table, Little Bro is ready to take a break and join his brother, tucking into his 'Phase 2' bowl of Shreddies.
The good part of this is that I get a few hours one-on-one with each son during the day (Big Bro's time being during Little Bro's afternoon nap, of course).
The down side of this is that it's a looong day, and I have a kid full of beans at each end of it. Big Bro, the only night owl in the family, comes to life as the sun goes down, pogo-ing around the upstairs hall.
The other not-so-good part of this is that this is me at either end of the day:
All I can say is, it's a good thing I love their company so much.
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