Nothing says good morning like a puppy in your face

Dogs, even more so than people, get settled into their routine. Dillan is absolutely no exception. Every morning I wake up to the sounds of a puppy stirring in the little space right beside our bed. He's stretching and yawning, and I'm lying perfectly still so that maybe he'll leave me alone for the next 10 minutes. Or at least until my alarm officially sounds off. No luck. He knows.
And with that suddenly a wet nose is in my eye sniffing. I don't know if he thinks somehow we morphed into other beings with different smells overnight but it never fails, he's sniffing with fury. I think he aims for the eyes because he knows that means I have to open them and stir to wipe the fresh puppy juice that is now in my face.
My eyes are now officially open, and I can no longer fake any sort of sleep. His tail is spinning in a circle and he's taking anticipatory steps backwards, so as to be closer to the door of course.
If I choose to roll over and close my eyes, he whines. Not begging whines of a normal dog, but "you are literally ruining my life" whines. If he's really upset, he will even bark. I think the total barks tallies about 5 now. Usually I'm not lucky enough to get to the "roll back over stage."
Now my feet are on the floor, and Dillan's front ones are lifting about 2 inches into the air.
I'm finding my glasses and sweater and he's rearing back, ready to race to the door.
I'm unlocking the dead bolt and he's jumping in the air.
The door is open.
He bolts outside.
And stands.
Sniffs some grass.
-business-
Sniffs the air.
Sniffs the grass.
Walks.
Tries to go back inside and I won't let him.
Sniffs the grass.
-business-
Then I'm pretty sure he smiles at me and races back inside.
Where I hear my alarm going off.