My kids wake me up most mornings, usually about half an hour before I’d like them to. This morning, however, was the morning after Halloween.

Not only that, it was the morning after a Halloween weekend filled with stuff: soccer game, pumpkin carving, Sea World trick-or-treating, visiting with my folks, decorating for Halloween, and, of course, the Halloween party and trick-or-treating.

By the time they tumbled into bed last night, my kids were absolutely exhausted.

Naturally, I woke them up this morning with a song, one of my own creations, adapted from the torture my own parents used to traumatize me with.

“Good morning, merry sunshine,
Good day, misty moon.
It’s time for you to get up now,
That’s why I sing this tune!”

My oldest sat up quickly, almost too quickly. He’s on the top bunk, and just barely missed smacking his head on the ceiling. “I’m up!”

His little brother burrowed into his covers. “No! I don’t want to get up.”

I switched tunes. Time to bring out the Bob Marley. “Get up, Wake up,” I sang. “Wake up for your life!” My voice was scratchy, but I think I managed a pretty good level of intensity.

“I don’t want to go to school,” he whined. “Can’t I stay here?”

I tugged the covers off him. “It’s pizza day!”

Pizza day is when the school serves pizza in the cafeteria. We let the kids buy their lunch on pizza day.

He sat up, grumbling and rubbing his eyes, and I left to go get their breakfast ready. Five minutes later, I returned to check on them. The 8-year old was dressed and pulling on his shoes. His little brother, however, was kneeling on the bed, completely naked, with his face stuffed into the mattress and his bare backside pointing at the ceiling.

It’s gonna be a rough day.