The morning blues

I wanted to wake up Ann quite early this morning, but she screamed, 

"Wouldn't you let me sleep a little late even on a weekend? 

Don't you know that I had a headache in school, for sleeping late on my project work?  I've had enough trouble with this school already and I don't want my teacher question me again on this?" 

I relented to her drowsy reasoning and withdrew. Emili was furious that I let her, but she wouldn't take the risk of interfering in it either.  And she conveniently blamed it on her morning chores.

I went back to the computer upstairs for some idling and face-booking after the breakfast. A short while later, I heard my brother-in-law (who lives in the neighbourhood) on the ground-floor talking at a high pitch to Ann. I thought she was up out of embarrassment, but only when I came down at noon, realised that she had no such feeble feelings, and did not compromise on her rights, on a weekend morning.  You know, she has this rare ability to carry on a logical conversation even half asleep.

Sitting on the edge of the cot she sighed, "After a long time I've had some decent rest, except for Joe uncle's shriek."  She complemented me for the rare display of common sense and respect for kids.

I am a 'Ten ways to be a Great Dad?' father, especially in the early hours of the morning when I need to shake my daughter ready for the 6.30 school bus. May be, I have settled into such a mode, after more natural methods have failed. To be frank, I have ample practical material for a good book on the 'difficulties of parenting'.

When I was a little absent-minded she always reminded me of her cousins struggling into the 8 O' clock Jeep, to the nearby school, and lets me know how disciplined and sacrificing her life has been.