Friday morning Wyatt overslept for work a little bit. Last night when we went to bed, he asked, “Can we sleep in tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said. (I like sleeping, too. And I get it, he’s tired.)

But…I’ve been up since 10:30, and he’s still in there sleeping. Good grief.

A part of me wants to go wake him up right now and say, “It’s LUNCHTIME!” but another part wants to just wait and see if he’ll ever get up on his own.

And don’t get me wrong, I know he gets up early everyday, and I knew long before I married him that sleeping in was a weakness of his, and getting up for “no reason” (other than that it’s the middle of the afternoon!) is not his strong suit.

So, I guess I’ll go take a shower. Maybe the sounds of me getting dressed will wake him.

Probably not, though. I swear, that man could sleep through a train wreck.

I may need to resort to pulling off the covers and turning on the lights. Of course, that will make him grumpy all day.

Maybe I’ll break out the big guns and start frying up some bacon. That always does the trick.