Up With the Lark

I don't know how she does it.

During term-time you can guarantee that, come 7.30am, The Princess is still dead to the world, far away in Dreamland with Prince Charming, and I have to be the Bad Guy and wake her up.

I have to virtually prise her out of bed with a crowbar and chivvy her along constantly to make sure we leave for school on time, because she's just soooooo tired.

Then there's school holidays. While not officially taking the week off myself, I was looking forward to a few days without the alarm relentlessly blasting me awake at 6.45am. Not to mention stealing some extra time under a warm, cosy duvet with a cup of tea and the latest copy of Autosport.

No problem with The Boy, of course. He's 16 - enough said. Always a good sleeper, it would take a bomb under his bed to move him before 11am during the holidays - and even then I'm not convinced it would work.

But The Princess? I don't believe the little madam ever made it past 7.45am before she was up and about, talking to the cats and singing. And as soon as she got the slightest hint of movement from my room, her little face would appear round the door with its usual cheery grin.

And that's why, although I was exasperated at her not taking the opportunity to sleep in while she had it, I couldn't be cross with her. That smile would melt the hardest heart - never mind one that's biased to begin with.

Ok, forget the tea and quiet reading time - let's have a cuddle instead!