An extra hour on my hands

By By Jason Cannon
I can never get used to the concept of "spring forward" and "fall backward" when it comes to rolling our clocks back and forth.
Nine times out of ten, I forget to do it.
I've been blessed that I've never been late for anything for forgetting "spring forward," but I have been left wondering what's going on several times for forgetting to "fall backward."
I woke up this Sunday and looked at the clock. It was 7 a.m., or so I thought.
It took a few minutes, but I figured it out.
I realize the whole concept of the time change is rooted in energy conservation and harvesting, but I think it's rather obvious that the people who invented this concept didn't have small children.
In fact, Englishman William Willett was inspired to invent Daylight Savings Time during one of his pre-breakfast horseback rides, when he observed with dismay how many Londoners slept through the best part of a summer day.
An avid golfer, he also disliked cutting short his round at dusk.
The legitimate reasons for the time change seem to be side effects of shooting a game of golf before supper.
My three-year-old daughter, Lizzie, is having a hard time getting used to the abrupt change in her schedule.
She used to get up at 7 a.m. Now, she gets up at 6 a.m. She used to go to bed at 9 p.m. Now, she's trying to fight off falling asleep at 8 p.m.
Her little internal clock hasn't married itself to the atomic clock yet.
When she wakes up in the morning, SpongeBob Squarepants isn't on yet. She's got to wait another hour, which Tiffany and I explain to her every morning.
Her routine used to be: Roll out of bed. Get a glass of milk. Watch SpongeBob. Go to school.
Now, she's got an extra hour to kill after step two.
Lizzie comes by it honestly. No matter how many reminders you set, or how many people tell you it's coming, daylight savings coming and going can sneak up on you – like it did Lizzie and I – and leave you with an extra hour to kill wondering where SpongeBob went.