Most weekend mornings I get up early and start the day by writing two letters: one to #1 and one to #2. About the time I finish, I can hear #1 and #2 stirring. We quietly dress, collect some game or toy, and sneak out the door to go find breakfast. We spend the next couple hours at some local cafe or coffee shop playing, drawing, reading, or otherwise squandering the morning together. We often stop by a park or go for a walk before coming home.
#1 and I started sneaking out more than a decade ago as a way to let Mother sleep in on the weekends (or, put another way, to avoid getting in trouble for waking Mother). Six years ago #2 joined us in our weekend morning Ausflüge. What began as a happy coincidence of self-preservation and consideration has become an important ritual that we share.
I understand that some people don’t think they are morning people, or think they should be allowed to start the day with some time alone, or think they need to start the day by reading the latest headline or email or Facebook post, or think they deserve to sleep late on the weekends because they get up early during the week. These too are rituals. Just not the kind I want my progeny to associate with me.