Daylight Saving Time / Die Sommerzeit

Europe changed its clocks last night, starting Daylight Saving Time three weeks after the US. I was glad that we didn't change our clocks three weeks ago, usually finding the sudden plunge back into pitch-black morning wake-ups more than a little unpleasant. By changing our clocks now, it will be darker in the morning, but at least there will be come sunlight peeking over the horizon when it's time to get up. But changing clocks, whether now or then, throws off the daily routine completely and so even though today was an hour shorter, it dragged by. When I was at Notre Dame, we didn't change time. For half the year we were on New York time and for half the year we were on Chicago time. It was confusing for those living elsewhere, but for us it meant that our schedules were never disrupted when we were on campus. I like not having Daylight Saving Time.

For Nikolas, whose sense of time is completely based on the rising and falling of the sun, the lengthening of the days has already been troublesome even before switching the clocks on him. He has been well trained to believe that he should sleep (or try to sleep) until the sun comes up. That has worked throughout the winter, with him usually getting up between 6:30 and 7:00 am (even though in the dark of winter, the sun wasn't up even then). In recent weeks, he's been racing into our room earlier and earlier and earlier as the sun rises earlier and earlier. It's still not completely clear to me whether the light wakes him up or if he is awake, lying in his bed, waiting until some 'acceptable' level of daylight is achieved.

Tonight, when the church bells rang at 6:15 pm as usual (which signals that bath time is drawing near), Nikolas looked out the window at the obviously still bright sky with a perplexed look on his face. "What are those bells for?" he asked, not believing it could be almost time for bed. Not only did it not look like bedtime, his body wasn't tired yet. We went through the motions of bath and books and turning off the light, hoping that he would fall straight to sleep despite the sky glowing through his red curtains. He tossed and turned for a long time, asking randomly connected questions followed by periods of silence in between:

- What is this part called under your eyes? The part UNDER your eyes, not the skin?
- Why didn't Captain Hook want to be eaten by the crocodile?
- How do those fish that live in shells protect themselves?
- Can you see my eyes in the dark? They are closed.
- Is Incredible Hulk really strong? Strong like me?
- Why? What I mean is...why?

Eventually the light began to fade and so did Nikolas' questions. At least until tomorrow night when we will go through the routine again because it will be lighter for longer and he still won't understand why.