For the past few years whenever we were at the Salone del Gusto trade show the time changed, and that extra hour of sleep on Sunday, the hardest day of the fair, was a godsend. So this year, as usual, we were looking forward to the time change. The only thing we were a little worried about was the fact that you can’t really explain to an 11 month old that she can and must sleep in for an extra hour now, cause that’s what the clock says, so I had pretty much resigned myself to being up at the crack of dawn, but with a whole extra hour to do stuff. And let me tell you that extra hour takes on a whole new meaning. That extra hour is going to solve all my problems, I’ll finally managed to put some order in my house cause I’ve got a whole extra hour, and if I let my body think it’s still on the old time, it’s like I get an extra hour every day, hell I can start exercising and leaving the house in make-up and matching clothes once again, oh that extra hour, it’s so wonderful I can barely stand the excitement. So last night when both kids woke up at separate times, I didn’t really get too upset, and then when both of them woke up again at 5 am I was actually happy because I gave both of them milk and they went back to sleep so I was pretty sure I was going to get that extra hour of sleep after all (I realize the logic there is faulty, being happy at being awakened three times during the night for a measly extra hour of sleep is pretty stupid). So the husband, kids and I wake up at nine (which is supposedly actually eight cause we turned the clock back) and as usual we start firing up all our technology. Out come the i-phones and the i-pads so we can download the day’s paper during breakfast and… hmmm… this is weird… what time does yours say? Cause mine hasn’t updated yet, hmmm, strange, is the wi-fi working? Here, turn on the news, what time is it? oh CRAP. It’s nine. The time hasn’t changed. It changes next week. Sigh.