Lydia was having a difficult morning. I woke up to the sound of her stomping back and forth in the family room with her hands balled up into fists. I came downstairs to find her flopped on a couch with her face pressed into a pillow. Gideon sat nearby looking concerned. Across the room, Clara had hidden herself in a pair of headphones and was watching a Youtube video.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking for a place to sit down and then giving up when I couldn’t find one. I slipped my hands in my pockets and tried to look casual. “You guys getting along alright down here?”

Lydia slid sideways off the couch and let her arms flop dramatically across her body and onto the rug. She rolled her eyes at me and said nothing.

I looked at Gideon for support, but he just shrugged, “I don’t know what is wrong with her!” he said in frustration.

Clara pulled off her headphones and spun around in the chair. Apparently, she could hear what was going on perfectly fine. “She wanted the computer. But I always use the computer while I eat breakfast. So, I said she could have a turn after I’m done.” she motioned at an empty plate in front of her as she said this as if it explained everything.

Lydia just stared up at me, still pretending to be dead apart from her eyes that rolled four times while her sister was talking.

“Ah… I see.” I said, smiling at each of them. “Neat. Well, it’s my day off, so I’m actually going to use the computer today. You’ll just have to fight over it tomorrow.

“There were groans of protest from both the floor and the chair as Clara angrily tossed her headphones onto the hook and Lydia coiled into a ball and then sprang across the room, fleeing towards the stairs.

“That’s not fair though,” said Clara, again motioning at her plate. “I haven’t even started breakfast yet!”

“That plate is empty,” I told her.

And she shook her head at me like I was insane, “Yes! That’s what I said! I haven’t even started making it yet.”

I looked at Gideon who was still sitting quietly on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at the floor in defeat. “You know,” he said finally. “I like girls, but I also don’t really. They are ALL just so MAD all the time.”

Clara snorted, “Well, you don’t actually know that many girls.”

“Well,” he said, “I know enough of them, and they are all so MAD.” He pushed his little hands in his pockets like I had when I walked into the room and he slowly stepped up the stairs to find Lydia. “Why are girls always so MAD?” he asked again, quietly under his breath as he left as if questioning the universe, questioning God. If he ever received an answer, I didn’t hear it.