Knitting up my oh, so raveled sleeve.

The door latch clicked open and the preschooler came running into the bedroom.

"Mommy, Mommy! I saw stars!"

I tried to tell her to go back to bed, but what came out wasn't decipherable.

"One star ..." She paused, to turn down one finger I was sure. I couldn't tell, because it was pitch black. "Two stars! I saw two stars, Mommy!"

"Sweetie, it's not time to get up. It's still dark, angel. You should go back to bed."

There was a momentary disappointed silence. "But, Mommy, I hungry."

There was obviously no hope. Once hunger enters the equation there's no stopping the process. I rolled out of bed and staggered over to my robe.

"OK, sweetie, OK. Just give me a minute. Mommy's got to wake up. This is very early."

"The sun's not up?"

"Yes. When it's dark out, it's time to sleep."

"But I awake, Mommy!" She started to cry.

"S'OK, S'OK, S'OK." Oh, please, no. Not the whining. Not this early. "We're both awake. We're going to stay that way. Unfortunately."

What time was it, anyway? I managed to make my eyes focus on the clock.

5:30 a.m.

As I shepherded my daughter into the hall, the baby started crying. I waited, but she didn't settle back to sleep.

"Did you wake up your sister?"

"Yes?"

So by 6 a.m., there we all were. The toddler was crying because Dora wasn't on, the baby kept trying to climb the entertainment center, and I, well, I was looking at a very long day.

Which it was.

But now it's over, and bed is going to feel very good.