As we zombie-like stumbled to the coffee pot, getting ready for the next school day--folders signed, snacks prepared, dishwasher unloaded, Nicholas came flying into the kitchen, a psychotic mess of energy for before 7:00 in the morning. He had a blanket over his head and he was twirling around screaming non-sense. Then he hit the open dishwasher door in his path, and splayed out across the floor. Missing not one beat, he hoped up, realigned his blanket, and screamed out of the room. We were still standing there trying to remember which cupboard we kept the coffee cups in.