Ok, yeah, it may well confuse the cows, make nights too hot, get kids late for bed and fade the curtains.
But on the flip side, and far more important than its energy saving and hence greenhouse gas reduction capabilities, it means that we're writing this blog at 6am on a Sunday.
This may sound seriously delusional, but think of it this way; the boy insists on waking with the first of the farting sparrows, which at this time of year is at 0553 EDST. But in sun time, thats 4:53.
FOUR BLOODY FIFTY THREE AM!
Being awake at 4:53 on a Sunday is for people in nightclubs and nursing homes.
Hence, thank Ford for daylight saving. A whole hour closer to reasonableness.
A case of beer for you George Hudson.
Not that all this sparrow farting is having any great impact upon the boy. Even if we're as blunt as yesterdays porridge at such an ungodly hour, he's firing with great insights.
Case in point.
For some reason, the breakfast topic shifted, as you do, to "Which came first, the chicken or the egg"?
Master M, without missing a beat, replied:
"The Rooster."
MMMmmmm...
In an animal husbandry sense, well, we guess he did.
Meanwhile, little Miss S has not only leapt past the 100 day mark, but is making her presence known too, only in a slightly more voluminous sense.
It seems we've reached that time when not only has she realised who mum and dad are, but that getting hugs from them is a damn good thing and should be insisted upon at all times.
Hence: lots of crying.
We know its just a stage.
We hope our backs hold out to 200 days.
Physically she's ticking all the boxes, but its still damn unnerving to watch her heart beating through her head.
(Don't freak out.)
All entirely normal; a baby's anterior fontanelle is where the bones of the skull haven't joined yet in order for the head to make itself a little more conical if need be - something mum's probably quite grateful for when the bub is trying to get out through the birth canal. The plates of the skull don't join for up to two years, and hence there's a little soft spot where, if she's still, you can watch the skin on her skull bounce up and down like some sort of inverted drum.
It's also a lot more visible because of her thin hair.
Speaking of which...
Many babies, like their mums, go through a period of hair loss as the hormone levels change after birth.
Nothing out of the ordinary here.
But for little Miss S, she's been losing hair everywhere except right at the very top of her neck/bottom of back of her cute little head.
As a result, our sweet little girl now has a severe case of bogan-itis.
Yes, she's sporting a genuine, Frankston passport, rat tail.
We'll forgive her.
For now.
Finally, we end on yet another one from the "don't repeat this at my 21st file".
Again starring the boy.
"Mum... my testicles hurt".
(Yes, he does know the word testicles, we're not cleaning this up for the faint hearted...)
"MMUUUMMM!! My testicles hurt!"
"Alright..." said mum. "Gimme a look."
Off with the nappy.
And there it was.
His sloop pointing north.
(i.e., His first conscious erection.)
Wont be the last time that thing causes you pain boyo.
Just ask the Rooster.
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