To me, daylight savings is what really kicks off the “easy” season of summer.
When I get to push back the clock and have an extra hour of day to do with whatever I like, it feels like a bonus. Being able to crack the windows as I drive home from the office, maybe take a walk when I get home or have a glass of wine outside – it gives me the chance to still enjoy the day. If I’m being totally honest, I’d say that
I would usually spend that extra time tackling more of my to-do list because I’m addicted to being
productive. But still, daylight savings had always been a gain.
That is, until this year when my toddler and preschooler began a daylight savings uprising. They are
fighting for bedtime liberation, for the freedom to play until well after my husband and I want to go to
bed. (As I write this at 9:30 p.m., my little ones who we tucked in at 7:30 p.m. are still tossing around and
talking to stuffed creatures.) This insurrection came upon us fast and hard as the days were suddenly
stretched and the children decided that there was too much living to be done for such things as kid-
appropriate bedtimes.
I’m sorry to report that the coup to overthrow our domestic monarchy is quickly gaining ground as my
husband and I struggle to remain calm in the face of a relentless persistence unknown to grown men.
The only ray of light in our bedtime battle has been finding and reading this new book, a spoof on a
children’s book meant for frustrated parents which, the other night, gave my husband and I the aching
belly laugh we needed to regroup for another day.
