Ah, Morning

My alarm goes off at 6:50, about two hours before my internal clock says it should. Ah, well. I knew the job was dirty when I took it. Shlub into the kitchen, make Avocado's breakfast and lunch (cereal, juice, and strawberries; ham and cheese sandwich, orange, Thin Mints). Holler for Avocado to come downstairs already and eat her breakfast. She shambles in, plops down at the table. I (because Spouse is in bed with strep and the remnants of bronchitis, poor wight) take Emily out for the morning squeeze. Return. Feed the dog, who is far more grateful for the attention than the daughter (who has vanished upstairs but did, at least, clear her dishes from the table). Tidy the kitchen, start my coffee. Avocado has gone back upstairs. It is now 7:35.

On a hunch I open Avocado's door and call upstairs. Her room, I note, is pitch dark.

Me: "Hey, kid?"

A: (panicked) "I'm just finding my tank top!"

Me: "In the dark."

A: (after a pause): "I love you!" Which is as close to a non-admission-admission as one gets before 8am.