5.56am. A time I see a little too often for my liking. I hear a “Muuuuuuuuuum” calling from the bathroom, or a “thud thud thud thud” stomping along the hallway followed by a crash as the door is enthusiastically thrown open. I mutter “for fuck’s sake” under my breath, open one eye and peer in the direction of my radio alarm clock which I no longer bother setting. 05:56. 05-fucking-56. It always seems to be 5.56.
It’s a sad point in your life when you are quite happy to be woken up any time that starts with a 6. My preference would be 06:59, but any time after 6am just about qualifies as morning, these days.
5.56am does not count as morning. It is clearly still nighttime, especially during the winter when it doesn’t even begin to get light until 7.30 or so. Are the birds even singing at 5.56? No, no they’re not, because they are not rudely awoken by their children at such an ungodly hour, having already been woken up at 23:34 (more water), 01:12 (lost a sock), and 03:47 (wet bed, fucking hell).
I am not a fan of 5.56.
This is what I imagine 5.56am looks like in Alpha Mummy’s house:
This is what 5.56am looks like in my house: