The stinky group known as my family tromps back up the stairs, into our room. Charl is playing with a new-looking bear - where did he get that? - and Ellis is lying on the bed, asleep. Ugh. She probably took the first chance she had to be lazy. She wasn't even watching Charl! He's six! But somehow Mom and Dad think Ellis is "oh so mature" and can tell us what to do whenever she wants. She's not even an adult. She's fifteen. 

Ellis doesn't tell us to get her stuff or anything, but she's always telling us what we can or can't do. I'm honestly glad she's going with Charl. Means there's one less person that bosses me around. Abohe doesn't annoy me too much, she's pretty nice, and Dad's just calm. Mom is definitely the worst. Always saying we can't do perfectly fine things. Like somehow, even though I'm nine, Mom thinks I'm on the same intellectual level as Charl. AND HE'S SIX!

This is why I'm always testing boundaries. Finding loopholes. It's my only way to fight against annoying rules and stupid regulations. 

Mom and Dad shake Ellis awake. "Good shopping trip today, everyone!" Mom says in a cheery voice.

She's lying. It wasn't a good shopping trip at all. We were dragged around to all ends of the earth inside a single store, or at least it felt like that. Mom and Dad wheedled the shopkeeper about costs, we bought packages of terrible hardtack, and I tried to convince everyone to buy their own hygine kit, but to no avail. 

We head down to the cafe, and plot out routes over dinner. I can feel my eyes glazing over, I'm so bored. I better get used to the feeling, becuase after this, it'll just be walking and sleeping and eating and listening to my stupid family talk about random things just to make conversation. There's also going to be a bunch of stinky oxen walking beside us. Mom is probably going to exceed a record for creating rules, and I'm probably going to exceed a record for finding loopholes in said rules. 

I've always been Mom's "problem child" even though I just point out perfectly valid loopholes in her rules every so often. Then she'll say some annoying stuff about "respect for your elders" et cetera. One time I tried to turn one of the loopholes into a "teaching moment" for my mom, like the ones she loves to unleash on me and my siblings whenever we make a mistake. She went apoplectic. But if she treats me like a child, why should I treat her any differently? Don't they always say "treat others how you want to be treated?" 

We finish our dinners and head up to bed. The beds are creaky and uncomfortable, but I fall into a random dream nontheless. Something about dancing oxen pulling wagons stuffed with copies of Charl's new bear.