Page 143 of If Love Had A Manual

I ease the door open, and sure enough, she’s still sprawled under the blankets, a tangle of long limbs and curly hair half-covering her face.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I brush curls from her face. “Hey, princess,” I say quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Time to get up.”

She stirs, letting out a dramatic groan. She’s not even a teenager yet. God help me.

“Daaaad,” she fake cries, rolling onto her stomach. “School sucks.”

“Yeah, I know, but you need your education.” I only say it because I know she hates that argument.

She pushes herself up, eyes still bleary but immediately narrowing with determination.

“Education?” she says, her voice gaining that sharpness that tells me I’m about to regret opening my mouth. “Dad, we’ve discussed this. The current education system is fundamentally flawed. It caters predominantly to a standardized testing model, completely overlooking the needs of independent learners like myself.”

I hold back a sigh, knowing I’ve unleashed something I can’t easily contain.

She continues, each word articulate and precise beyond her years. “Studies have consistently shown that self-directed learning fosters critical thinking skills, adaptability, and a greater capacity for creative problem-solving. All of which, I might add, are skills more valuable in today’s rapidly evolving economythan memorizing state capitals or the periodic table.”

She pauses for breath, crossing her arms defiantly. “Yet, here we are, forced into an outdated classroom model that prioritizes conformity over actual learning. Explain to me again how exactly that’s beneficial?”

I rub a hand over my face, internally cursing every time I spoke to her in complete adult sentences when she was a toddler, terrified she’d end up struggling with speech. I should have just stuck to baby talk. Now I’ve created a pint-sized debate champion who argues me under the table every chance she gets.

“Rosie,” I start weakly, already knowing I’ve lost, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but—”

She shakes her head firmly. “No buts, Dad. It’s not enthusiasm. It’s logic.”

Yep.

Definitely in trouble.

“Yeah, well,” I say, doing my best to sound authoritative despite knowing I’m already defeated, “logic right now means getting your butt out of bed and to school on time.”

She huffs, flopping back and flinging an arm over her eyes.

“Rosie, come on.”

Another groan before she cracks one eye open, scowling at me like I’m the enemy of all good things. “Where’s Mom?”

“In the shower, and I’m pretty sure she knows your feelings on the education system.” I think Lena got the same spiel yesterday.

“Fine,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.

I ruffle her curls gently before standing.

Next stop: the twins’ room—two more lumps under blankets, but these lumps are wide awake andbickering.

“Give it back, idiot!” one hisses, while the other yanks at a sock.

I clap my hands sharply. “Boys! No fighting. Pick your own socks, we have a million pairs.”

They both glance at me, but they drop the poor sock before returning to rummage through piles of clothes.

“Don’t kill each other,” I add, stepping out, trusting they’ll solve it. They always do.

Downstairs, Milo’s waiting by the back door, thumping his giant tail. He’s old now, muzzle sprinkled with gray, but still sweet as ever.

“Alright, big guy,” I say, opening the door to let him out. “Go do your business.”

We moved houses about five years ago, after Lena got pregnant with the twins. We needed more space than that cramped little place could offer. Now we’ve got a yard big enough for a dog the size of a small bear.

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