It is ridiculous to control time. It is a fools errand. Time is fast. Time is fluid. Time is an artificial construct created as a measure for humans.
How long is 60 million years? 39 years? 11 years? 3 years? Yesterday? Today? One hour? 5 minutes ago? 3:30? 7 am?
In reality none of it means anything. Those numbers are just a measure for marking the passage of time.
But I try to control time. I try to set schedules. I try to hold on to some semblance of order. If I am master of the clock, then I am master of my life. It is not true but I try to believe it nonetheless.
Things must happen at a certain time. We must get up, we must eat breakfast. Mommy must shower. We leave the house. We return. We eat lunch. We nap. We wake. We play. We make dinner, we eat dinner. We play. We bathe. We sleep.
This is the routine that makes up our lives for better or for worse. This routine is dictated by the clock. Or at least I would like it to be. Other members of my family have other ideas.
They (she) pushes sleep until the last possible second, until eyelids cannot remain open any longer. They (she) wakes with the sun no matter what time the eyelids were shut.
I fight the good fight every day but I cannot control time. I cannot control her interpretation of time, her interpretation of when it is appropriate to sleep and to wake.
But I can control one thing. We do not under any circumstances go downstairs before 7:00 AM. Regardless of when she wakes, 6, 6:15 or 6:30, I gather her up all warm from sleep. I bring her to my bed. We snuggle. I try to ignore her requests to play. I try to teach her to read the digital clock. I try to control time for just one fleeting moment.