At 6:30 this morning, I heard her. Shuffle, shuffle, stomp stomp stomp, as she climbed out of bed and ran across on the noisy wood floor, headed — I don’t know where.

“Sophie?!” I called.

“I get up by myself!” she announced.

I coaxed her into my room and she climbed in bed with me. We cuddled for a while. 6:30′s not so unreasonable (though she just announced she’s tired) but I’m seeing a scary pattern. Tomorrow, 6? By next week, midnight?

And by March, all-night parties?