Mondays always feel like the bottom of a hill. You have to remember how not to be ill, how to wake up and say
"OK big bad world, I am ready for the day".
Not like Saturdays.
Saturdays are fun days, when you do lots of neat stuff,
and jump and bounce
till you run out of puff.
Saturdays are full of games and giggles.
and running around shouting yippee yippee yiggles.
All day long.
When all your yiggles are done for the day,
you could, if you're good,
stay up late, perhaps till eight,
if you were really very very,
very very,
very good.
Sundays are different.
Sundays mornings are slow, and soft, and warm in your bed, dreaming about gingerbread castles and cookie dragons, and soaring through the clouds on a magical flying muffin bird to catch the waffle bunny who hid all the syrup.
On Sunday no one says
"Time to get up, time to get dressed, time to get busy, no time to rest!"
Not on a Sunday. Sundays are best.
But Monday morning! Who made Monday mornings?
Whoever it was was crabby old goat, with long spikey fingers and a hole in his coat, who never played snizzle with a stick and ball and I really do think he was no fun at all.