I put my daughter to bed tonight and she looked at me like I had flipped. It was still light outside.
She's six, and I've been reading her this Robert Louis Stevenson poem every time we have the time shift for many years now. It fixes nothing, but it soothes her to know she isn't alone.
How does everyone else cope with this?
Bed in Summer
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?