After nearly dying of fright the other morning, I decided to take a more aggressive approach to waking up my oldest son on Sunday.

I snuck into his room ten minutes before I usually wake him, tip-toed to his bed, then grabbed his ankle and pulled.

He came awake instantly, grabbing for the headboard. When he saw it was me, he collapsed into helpless hysterics. I almost managed to drag him completely off his bed before he got himself under control and grabbed on.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He was laughing so hard, he was gasping for air. “You never said Ninja! You never said it!”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I don’t think I had to.”