"Sammy, time to get up," Carl called.

There was a groan from his daughter's closed bedroom that sounded decidedly unhappy.

"Sammy, I'm gonna count to three, and then I'm gonna do that thing you hate if you don't get up." He took a sip of his coffee.

Another groan sounded.

"One," Carl called, looking down at his accomplice.

There was no reply.

"Two," Carl said.

Bobby looked up at him with an eager grin.

"Three," Carl said. "Bobby," he said loudly, "I need you to wake your sister up."

Another groan sounded from inside the room of his eldest daughter as his youngest daughter, still wearing her cute, blue pajamas, threw open the door and dove onto the bed. "Sammy! Wake up wake up wake upwakeupWAKEUP!" She started rolling around on the bed like a rolling pin, slowly forcing her sister towards—

"Ugh, nooooooo," Sammy groaned, fighting to stay on the bed.

"Yes!" Bobby shouted, wrapping her arms and legs around her blanket-covered sister. "Come on, Sammy, we're going apple picking! It's gonna be awesooome!"

"That's today?" Sammy asked in a voice that made her sound like she was unenthusiastic about the prospect of such an activity.

"Yeah! And Dad made egg sandwiches too!"

Sammy stopped struggling. "No onions?" she asked, still sounding sleepy.

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"You're so weird," Bobby said, visibly squeezing her arms around the log of blankets. "What's wrong with onions?"

"Hate 'em," Sammy grumbled.

Carl leaned against the frame of the door. He could relate to his eldest daughter. He hadn't liked onions when he'd been her age, either. "I made one with no onions and extra cheese," he said.

"Home fries?" Sammy asked, the lump of blankets twisting a little.

"With bacon and sausage!" Bobby cheered.

"Fine, I guess I'll get up," Sammy said, clearly trying to pretend that she was still unhappy about it despite the undertone of happiness that had become apparent.

Carl didn't make egg sandwiches very often, but his egg sandwiches were good enough to get a sixteen year-old girl who listed sleeping in one of her top three favorite things out of bed and down to the kitchen. He turned and started heading back down the stairs.

"Why didn't you just say that to start?" Sammy called after him, sounding disgruntled.

"Because I wanted to wake you up again!" he heard Bobby say between giggles. "C'mon! Let's goooo!"

"Get off me, brat, I'm up!"

Carl reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled back into the kitchen.

Annie was sitting at their old, hexagonal table, leaning her head on one hand with a red pen in the other as she continued working on the tests she was grading.

"Support ticket closed," Carl said. He finished his coffee and started towards the stove to start on his other daughter's egg sandwich. "Resolution: delegated."

"Sounds like your helper took care of it," Annie said without looking up.

"Yeah, I should probably give her a raise."

"Let's wait until performance reviews, you know we have to stick to the bell curve."

Carl laughed unexpectedly at an inopportune moment, sending a spurt of the new cup of coffee he'd just poured and supped from flying out onto the counter.

"Ooh, I got you with that, didn't I?" Annie asked, grinning but not looking up from her grading.

"Too real," Carl said as he wiped up the precious coffee he'd spilled.