Sleep

I like to sleep. I was never a get up early type of child, preferring instead to burrow into the warmth of my blankets and drift the day away. Sometimes I would wake and read there in my little blanket warren but it was a rare time that I would willingly leave it to face the coldness of the world around me. My parents, of course, did not ever indulge me in this fantasy of loafing about, but I did enjoy dragging it out as long as I could.

Sometimes my blankets (of which I had no fewer than three or four at any given time of the year)would hit that perfect nest and I would try my best to emerge from it carefully so that I could return to the perfection I had created later that evening. Naturally this meant that making the bed was out of the question. Smooth sheets? Hospital corners? Orderly pillows? How on earth would you be able to savour the warmth if you werent curled within it? So I left it, much to everyone else's chagrin. They simply closed the door to my bedroom and held thier breath as they entered. I would have been happier if they had not entered at all, but that is another tale entirely.

Now that I have children of my own who also enjoy their sleep, I can see my parents emerging from within me as I nag them out of thier beds (at 3 and 17 months, though, sometimes it is best to let sleeping babies lie) They, like me and my husband, like to stay up late and sleep the day away. Night owls all. Too bad the world doesnt revolve around folk like us. Still, on vacation days like I have now, I like giving them the opportunity to sleep as much as they would like and, while this may not be the delicate balance that the rest of the world strikes between waking and sleeping times, I think that they will be fine.

Besides, I like watching them sleep. It is a peaceful and gentle time, the next best thing to sleeping myself.