I slept in this morning.
To be specific, I slept until one o'clock in the afternoon.
In my defense, I offer the following: I haven't slept through the night since sometime last year (thank you, pre-dawn anxiety, you are my oldest- and least dear- friend); clearly, I deserved the extra rest.
Apparently, however, the world ends when the mother sleeps in. Or, at least that is the fear in my household, as evidenced by the attempts my children made to wake me, including that old chestnut of pulling up my eyelids, peering into my unseeing eye and whisper-yelling "Are you awake? Did I wake you up?"
I mostly slept through that one, although it did manage to weave itself into the dream I was having.
Anyway, once I finally awoke from my slumber, I was greeted with cheers from both my offspring and my husband-the former because I was finally showing signs of life which roughly translated into some form of renewed cooking ability, and, the latter out of a sense of clear relief in not being left alone to raise the Spawn from Hell, whose only fear of permanent Orphanhood-due-to- Coma, was the fear of starvation.
As an aside, I will never feel the same way about the phrase "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!", again.
I love you, too, children. I really, really do.