I am a night person. I am the most creative at night, when everyone else is asleep and the house is quiet. The phone doesn’t ring. They neighbors aren’t loud in the court. It’s just me and the slight hum and glow of my laptop. It’s heaven. Until middle school began… (And I do have to say ‘middle school’ or my middle schooler will get persnickety about the whole thing. It was junior high when I was that age; but I would dissuade anyone from saying ‘junior high’ to a middle schooler. Or do so at your own risk, in any event. Or maybe it’s just my middle schooler.) Anyway, this past year my son had to be at his desk before 7:30 am. I should probably repeat the first line again – I am a night person. Getting someone somewhere before 7:30 am is a special kind of torture for a night person. For the last nine months, I have risen at the ungodly hour of 5:00 am to shower, dress, fix breakfast, pack a lunch for my son, make sure he’s showered and dressed, and leave the house just in time to make...
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