When I was a teenager I was a bear to wake up in the morning. A snarly, grouchy, unhappy spring bear. As I grew up, I accepted the inevitablity of working for a living and the need to be on time and have good attendance.
These days, while I don't really care for getting up early, I don't mind it too much, either. During the week I make 3/4 of a pot of coffee and fill a travel mug and put the rest in a thermos. I usually don't even take a sip until I get to work, or about an hour or so after getting up. Coffee doesn't seem to make much difference on my attitude one way or another.
Weekend mornings are a little different. I don't wake up particularly early, but I do like it when I'm the first one up. The house is quiet for a bit until my son wakes up. That boy is up with the sun, which is how he earned the nickname Rooster. Weekend mornings with my kids are something I look forward to.
