How we wake up

The alarm goes off at 6:09, but I lay in bed until it goes off at 6:15, collecting my thoughts, and gearing up for the day. Who just jumps out of bed the first time the alarm goes off? Brian usually turns off the alarm and rolls over while I get out of bed. He will usually lay there for a good half hour more. I would resent him for this if he didn't have to regularly wake at 4am to catch flights. Then I feel completely justified in rolling over while he gets ready to travel.
I wake Tritan carefully. He always jumps out of bed in full flight mode, as if I've just told him there is a fire or aliens are after him. He immediately exits the room and goes downstairs to make himself breakfast--which consists of 4 waffles or 4 packets of oatmeal (that kid can eat!). I am usually still sitting on his bed, a little dazed by his hasty exit and fighting not to lay down in his warm bed and go back to sleep.
I make his lunch while he eats and then send him on his way by 6:55.
I eat breakfast, usually while watching the news, and then spend some time reading scriptures or church magazines. I do a few yoga stretches and then I am finally awake enough to face the Tyrant.
I wake Athena first, who usually blinks with wide eyes, like she's not quite sure who I am or why I am there. As the realization hits that she has to get up, she rolls over and scrunches under her covers. Then I wake Paris, who usually just gets up, rubs his eyes, and puts on his robe (since he sleeps exclusively in boxers) and heads down to breakfast.
Finally, I must wake the Tyrant. He requires a good deal of shaking and prodding before he will even stir. Then he will complain that his eyes won't open. Forcing him out of bed is a huge mistake, so cuddling him or helping him stretch his arms and legs is a good alternative. Usually getting him out of bed will require actually carrying him downstairs. "Will I have to carry you when you are 16?" I always ask. "I'm not 16. I'm 5." He tells me. By the time we have made it downstairs, the others are already eating cereal.
Heaven forbid if you have just finished off the cereal the Tyrant was going to eat. Or are just pouring a bowl. Or if you are just looking at the box. The Tyrant hates to share. He usually finds something he is not happy about--the bowl is wrong, the spoon has something on it, why can't he have sugar on Frosted Flakes? But he finally digs in when I remind him that the bus won't wait, and it is almost time to go, and he will just have to go hungry.
About this time he will shout in an accusing tone: "I feel horrible", like I am responsible for this sudden illness. I always suggest he eat something and see how he feels; so he does, and he always feels better.
The Tyrant refuses to dress himself and usually hates what you've picked out for him to wear. But left to his own devices he will dress himself in shorts on a 42* day or wear the same clothes from yesterday.
Somehow the kids make it to the car by 8:35 (by somehow, I mean some shouting, some cajoling, and in some cases carrying) and we fly to the bus stop. There, the kids get out to play with the rest of the neighborhood kids. The Tyrant is soon giggling and racing around.
When the bus arrives, he doesn't even wave good bye.