I've never been a morning person. My internal clock, even from childhood, has always urged me to stay up late (1, 2am) and get up late (11, I'm lookin at you!). For years, I fought this about myself, believing it made me a slacker who didn't achieve as much as my counterparts who rose at 6 and had run 3 miles, cleaned the kitchen, and made a 4-course breakfast by 9.
But no, research shows that everyone is different. Some come alive at the crack of dawn; others of us function best when the stars are brightest.
My 15-month-old son--he's a morning person. (Not TOO much of one--luckily, he likes to sleep til 8 or 9). But when he pops up from his 11-hour snooze, he is AWAKE, bouncing, and usually bursting with smiles to greet the day.
Hubbaland and I, as we slog toward our workaday activities, dragging our feet and longing for our heads on our pillows, often comment that we could learn a lot from this little wonder who has breathed air for less than 2 years. He's pumped. He's ready. He's looking for the next great adventure. And he's perfectly content when that adventure leads to the same book over and over.
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