I’m in the washroom, brushing my toof. I can hear SharkBoy in the bedroom hustling to get ready for work.
There’s a pause.
Suddenly the culturally familiar “Vwwoooshh” of an expensive toy lightsabre being ignited can be heard.
The noise of something rustling off the bed onto the floor, nails trying to get a grip on the hardwood.
A cat flies past the bathroom door.
SharkBoy in his shoes and underclothes* runs past the door, lightsabre waving.
It certainly feels like a Monday.
*Yes he puts his shoes on first before the shorts so that his dress shorts aren’t wrinkled if he were to sit and tie his shoes. He’s pragmatic.