I heard a tap-tap-tapping at my window.
It got incorporated as a sound effect in my dream. (Right? Hasn't your alarm clock been a truck backing up? Endlessly.)
So I'm not entirely sure how long my patient son was standing there, fully clothed, tapping at my bedroom window.
I dragged my sleepy self over to him, wondering if/how I'd missed my alarm clock.
"Mom! I'm just going to be out here (in our backyard) kicking the soccer ball around, kay?"
"Sure thing, buddy. Have fun."
Here's my gauge: If baby ain't up, mamma ain't up. The rest of you ambulatory people are just gonna have to kick it a little on your own, kay?
Great. With all that tapping, now I'm gonna be dreaming some creepy thing about a raven, only this and nothing more.
Might as well get up before the baby after all.
I've got Mr. Soccer's breakfast of champions to clean up.