Usually I can count on my daughter waking up before the birds in anticipation of what Santa has left behind. However, this Christmas morning it was Oliver, my cat, who decided to give me grief starting at around 5:30 am (Perhaps the reindeer had been teasing him?).
Fighting through the loud cat calls (he's predominantly Siamese, known for their vocal talents), and the scratching on the comforter, I battled between trying to get back to sleep, strangling the little ball of fur, or perhaps considering that if he were that out of wack - maybe something was wrong. Of course, he may not really have been that out of whack but just seemed so because of my desire to be asleep (being fully awake, I'm rather certain he's fine, just bratty).
It's nearing time to open presents....out for now.
Merry Christmas to all who celebrate.