The kids will tell you that ‘Sleep-in Saturday’ is one of the best parts of the weekend. No stinging alarm cutting short their playful dreams or a nagging mom calling for them to get dressed and make it to the breakfast table on time. Saturday mornings are easy going and the kids tend to sleep late and amble down the stairs to weekend life at their own pace. Years with three babies have forever trained my internal clock to wake early, but now I often enjoy my twilight Saturday mornings in the quiet kitchen by myself. As the house finally wakes up, the kids trickle down the stairs, each in a fuzzy state of happiness; it’s impossible to be crabby after a long, uninterrupted sleep. However, it never fails that one child is left behind to sleep the day long away…my very favorite Saturday situation. This day it was Rocky slumbering way past mid-morning, and I headed up the stairs toward his bedroom. I stopped in his doorway for just a moment to see his growing body sprawled across the top bunk with his mouth splayed wide open, breathing effortlessly. I climbed up the ladder, banging my head on the ceiling and slowly started kissing the top of his pillow-flattened hair. There was no sign of movement. I sang a song and made some terrible jokes. Nada, nothing. I finally went in for the money shot, tickling his bare chest. The edges of his mouth turned up into a smile, trying to hold back…then finally bursting out into full blown, side splitting laughter. I crawled into bed next to him where we worked on solving the problems of the world (bad morning breath not included). In our hurried world rushing to sports practices and fifth grade band concerts, I’m so grateful to still have those moments where laziness rules.