One cannot expect to have a peaceful morning, especially when you live in a pack of unmanageable, waspish werewolves. Having been woken by an angry growl, I thus struggled to get out of bed and instead shook my husband awake.
“What is it, honey?” mumbled a half-conscious Tobias.
“It is your father. He is at the door. He seems upset about something,” I alerted my husband before instructing him to answer the door.
While rubbing his eyes, he insisted that I go and talk to his father, “It’s too early for me to entertain my old man. Can’t you tell him to come see me a little later?”
Another splenetic call for my husband reached our ears, which successfully woke him up, and that’s when I asked him, “Do you really want me to deal with that?”
“Definitely not,” answered Tobias, picking hims
