This morning, I woke up a sleepy, grumpy ML to take her morning medication and get ready for school. She, as usual, was less than thrilled about this, but actually did what I asked and got herself dressed and up.
When she presented herself downstairs, she informed me (unprompted) that she had decided what to be when she grows up.
A “struggling artist.”
I naturally asked her “Why struggling?” and she gave me a blank stare. Then, very blandly, she informed me that “Artists don’t have to worry about those kinds of questions.”
She then walked out the door for school without another word.
Okey dokey then.