This is abrupt, but...

Papa (my husband) has eighth grade syndrome.

My right eye is aching...

Even though he is the father of our child and an adult...

I have been blessed with divine protection by this pure morning...

In the morning, he wakes up earlier than anyone.

Our daughter is in kindergarten.

Papa~ Tonight can you continue the story from yesterday?

I fell asleep in the middle of it...

Once upon a time...

Ah.

So you want me to continue the story about Momotarou going to Devil's Castle and growing wings?

Please stop that eighth grade-like retelling.