Whenever things became calm for a moment, and Michael would just fall asleep, Merlin's voice would suddenly blare from downstairs: "Hannah, are you awake? Do you want to come downstairs and play?"
Michael, who was just falling asleep, would be woken abruptly, so he had to grab a pillow and withdraw beneath it with a despairing expression covering his face.
Why was it that Merlin, who also hadn't slept a wink all night, was so energetic?
Was this some sort of unique ability granted by madness?
At dinner time, Michael, for the first time in his life, descended the stairs with a poker face.
"Oh, I don't eat cilantro." Merlin started complaining again after seeing her child's meal in front of her.
Victoria gently educated Merlin, "Little kids shouldn't be picky eaters. This is a children's meal specially made by our chef. See, beneath the cilantro are mashed potatoes and a little steak."
"But...", Merlin started making a delicate face, "I'm allergic to cilantro."
