The Early Bird Wakes The Worm
When we were kids in the glorious early nineties (simpler times), my parents decided we weren’t getting enough sleep, so they laid down a new ironclad rule:
Parents: “Lights out at 9:00 PM. No arguments. No excuses. We don’t care if you’re not tired; you’re in bed and silent by nine o’clock.”
At first, we grumbled. We protested. We tried the classic, “But we’re not tired!”
Didn’t matter. 9:00 PM. Boom. Done.
So, my siblings and I decided, if we had to suffer… so would they.
We started getting up at 4:30 AM.
Every. Single. Morning.
If they wanted us “well-rested,” fine — we were wide awake and ready to party… before the sun even thought about showing up.
We’d clomp around the house, slamming kitchen cabinets as we “searched for breakfast,” arguing loudly about who got the good cereal, and blasting the TV to watch cartoons at full volume because, technically, we were following all the house rules.
The first morning, Dad stumbled out of the bedroom in his boxers, bleary-eyed and confused, like a man who had been personally attacked by gravity.
Dad: “What are you doing?!”
Us: “Starting our day!”
Dad: “It’s 4:30!”
Us: “But we’re so… well… rested!”
The second morning, Mom tried to pre-make breakfast the night before… but we decided we wanted “fresh pancakes” and “helped” by unleashing a flour explosion in the kitchen.
By the third morning, they started locking their door. Didn’t help. We had a dog who barked every time we moved, because he thought it was playtime.
After one glorious week of living like caffeinated farmers, my mom finally called a family meeting.
Mom: “New rule. Bedtime is a guideline. Use your judgment. Just… please… don’t wake us up before 7 AM ever again.”