So last night, before we went to bed, a strategically-placed alarm on my computer reminded us that it was time for us to change our clocks for Daylight Savings Time. I dilligently went around the ground floor, changing the VCR, the microwave, the oven. We headed upstairs for bed, and I changed both our alarm clocks.
All was right with the world.
Until, of course, Kitten work up at a few minutes after 7, as the clock in her room informed her. That it was actually a few minutes after 6, instead, was very, very, very, very difficult to convince her of, and required that she come into our room and check both of our clocks. Which, fortunately, we’d reset. That this meant she should go back to her room for another hour was even a more diffucult task.
She did, though, and promptly came in later, about 7:10, to inform us that, “Daddy, it’s after 8 o’clock on my clock so it’s after 7.”
Next year, we change her clock first.
Next fall, that is. I wouldn’t mind the same mistake, in reverse, next spring …