As I left the house today, I had this parting conversation with the ten year old who, like her father, is not what one would call a “morning” person:

Self: Have a good day, sweetie.

Herself (frowning): Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Self: Oh, all right, have a perfectly bloody day. See if I care.

Herself (smiling): Heh.

You just have to know how to talk to them.

It’s funny that while the ten year old is typically a grump in the morning, her eight year old sister is almost offensively bright and cheery. The six year old, usually the maniac of the crew, is the one closest to the happy medium at the beginning of the day.