Sunday Morning

Sunday morning, just a typical day in our family. As usual, I was the last one in the house to get up at about One pm. My mom had gotten up about half an hour before me, and was acting all smug, in a funny, show-offy kind of way, but she would instantly have my back as soon as my dad made a sarcastic comment about how I should be having lunch instead of breakfast, or something like that. Dad had a right to be smug, because nobody in the house was quite sure when he woke up on weekends. He works from home, and of course, gets weekends off, but sure enough, if I ever have a reason to get up early, he’s in his office. Either working hard, or pretending to work hard. I don’t ask. I’ve tried asking about his work, but whenever I do, he gives an extremely vague answer, not wanting to go into detail. With our family, he’s a pretty goofy guy, who tends to fake-pout a lot, and with strangers, he’s a sarcastic know-it-all(in a good way). Then my sister stumbled down the stairs. She was up before everyone but dad, but had chosen to stay in her room and check Instagram or Vine or Facebook or Pinterest or maybe just text her friends. Something like that. My mom was enjoying her daily breakfast of avocado, sprouted toast, feta cheese, and ginger tea, and my dad just had black coffee. My sister began to make eggs, and not talk to us, because of how grumpy she was in the morning, and I just didn’t eat because I couldn’t decide what to eat (Just like I never can when the time comes for breakfast). Then we all gathered around the Television just like we do every Sunday morning to watch Friends or King of Queens or Everybody Loves Raymond of some cheesy show like that before we start our homework.