I would like to propose a little field trip. I suggest that we, the parents of young children, board a bus and travel to Philadelphia to visit the grave of the venerable Benjamin Franklin, the first person to propose Daylight Savings Time. I then propose that we dig up the old dingbat and beat his excoriated carcass with sundials.

Needless to say Fraser is not exactly handling the whole time change thing with grace and aplomb. Instead, he threw a 14 karat fit at 6:00 last night because he was tired damn it, and his tiny internal clock told him it was bedtime. Unfortunately, his tiny clock also seemed to tell him that something was amuck with his bedtime, because he got up every 45 minutes until 10:30 when I gave up and brought him to bed with us. His Swiss precision timepiece was in no way fooled by the time on Winnie-The-Pooh clock in his nursery this morning either, and at 4:45 he was up and ready to party. I fed him, changed his diaper and then rocked him until 5:30 when, as he was still showing no signs of reentering the land of nod, I unceremoniously deposited him in his crib with his quacking duck and went back to bed. Andy and I lay in our bed listening to him talk to his toys for about 15 minutes until he made it clear that we had had all the rest he was going to allow.

So now I'm wondering how long it is going to take Fraser, who doesn't seem to be a big fan of change (I wonder where he gets that from?) to adjust to the new schedule. Not that I mind him going to bed at 6:00 if he so desires, but the 4:45 wake up call I could definitely live without.