A Sunday lie-in - well, let's be honest, any sort of lie-in - becomes a thing of the past the second you have children.
But, nonetheless, five years into motherhood I still hanker for it.
And, even when I hear the first stirrings at the inhumane hour of 5.45am, I still hold out
hope.
Perhaps they will think it is still the middle of the night (after all it is still dark) and chat themselves back to sleep.
Or, if they do get up, perhaps they will crawl into bed with us, snuggle in and drift back off for another hour or two. I know I could.
But, alas, no.
The creak of one bedroom door and then another are like starter guns.
Miss Five sprints to our room and cosies in next to me, followed by Miss Two, who, vying for the same position, wriggles in between us.
All hell breaks loose.
"I want Mummy," Miss Five protests.
"My Mummy," Miss Two rebuts.
And I am caught in the crossfire.
A lengthy negotiation follows until finally Miss Five is persuaded to assume the "middle" position between her father and I.
For about 15 seconds no one moves and no one speaks. There is still hope.
Pow! The kitten jumps on the bed and starts attacking everyone's feet.
Miss Two squeals with excitement and Miss Five sits up to pat the kitten, taking most of the bedcovers with her.
I grit my teeth against the cold, reclaim the duvet and grumble.
All the while hubby is doing his best impersonation of a sleeping sloth.
I know he's awake because his breathing has changed but he hasn't moved an iota since the bedlam began.
Bed-locked between two fidgety girls, I grumble again as I prize myself free and admit defeat.
As the three of us leave the room I hear his breathing slow, and then resonate with a deep, full-bodied snore.
It is a gift.
There is no doubt about it.
They even write books about it.
In Miss Five's book bag at this very minute is a book titled: Wake up, Dad. In which everyone tries their best to wake up dad, but he does not budge until the covers are pulled off him and he falls out of bed.
It's good to see her books are mirroring real life experiences.
