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.