You awake to classical music on your clock radio. The sun rises in a glorious ball of fire outside your window. Birds perch on the sill to whistle you a cheery tune. You read your scriptures, a full 30 minutes.
Just as you finish with a happy sigh, your children knock on the door.
"Mom, I'm dressed, my hair is combed, and I've already practiced the piano," they call. "Can we help you make breakfast?" You dance to your bedroom door, a bastion of joy.
The whole family runs downstairs to pull together a five-course spread of pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit and toast. You read the morning paper together, or perhaps a slim volume of poetry, before giving each child a sound kiss on the head and sending them out the door to school.
I know surely, surely, there is a family like this somewhere. They may only exist in a Disney cartoon, but their very presence makes me eternally hope for such a morning.