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Milo is woken, as normal, by a tree crashing through his window.
He clambers out of bed and drops to the floor, barely wincing as he lands wrong and hurts his ankle. He hobbles downstairs, holding onto the bannister. It breaks, but he is able to jump over it and safely reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Morning, dad.” He yawns. “Morning mom.”
“Morning, sweetheart.” His mom hurries past and kisses him on the forehead, before rushing out into the corridor. “Did you hear Sara moving?”
“Nope.” Milo sits down at the table, watching his dad make breakfast.
“It’s 5am, she needs to be up or she’s going to be late.” His mom sighs, before turning her attention to the stairs. “Martin, put the bannister on the to-do list. Sara! Sa-“
The stove catches fire. Martin immediately rushes to get the fire extinguisher, while the fire alarm begins to glare.
“I’m up, I’m up!” Sara yells. She comes downstairs just as the fire alarm quiets down, rubbing her eyes with one hand will brushing her hair with the other. “Who needs an alarm clock?”
“Not me.” Milo giggles. He opens the window, to lessen the smoke. “Guess we’re on burnt eggs.”
“These… are not fit for human consumption.” Martin pours a small pile of vaguely egg shaped ashes into the bin. “Let’s risk toast. But Sara, you’ll have do it.”
“Can’t Milo?” Sara complains, before pouring half a mug of coffee down her throat in one go.
“You know what happened the last time Milo tried to use the toaster.” Martin shakes his head fondly. “I don’t want to rebuild that wall again.”
“Fine.” Sara elbows her dad equally fondly, shuffling over to the kettle. “Stand back, boys. Let me handle this.”
“Our hero.” Milo pretends to swoon. Sara swats him with the packet of bread, and it bursts, covering him in slices and crumbs. She curses. Then she giggles, plucking the least broken slices off of him to shove in the toaster. “I’m breadman!” Milo laughs.
“You’re certainly something, Milo.” Sara shakes her head, giggling. “You’re certainly something.”
As soon as the toast is in his hand, Martin sprints upstairs to get dressed. They all hear a clatter as he trips over the broken bannister and falls down the stairs. “I’m ok!”
Milo eats his toast with one hand, while packing his schoolbag with the other. When he opens the fridge, he winces. “Mom? I think my lunch exploded.”
“Oh dear.” She sighs, peering over his shoulder. “You’ll have to make another sandwich. There’s no egg salad, Diogee got into that.”
So Milo starts packing a new lunch, fighting against misbehaving knives, bread and tuna cans to wrangle a sandwich together. “Did you do your homework, sweetheart?” Brigette asks him, hurriedly rooting around in the pockets of the jackets hung next to the door.
“Yeah!” He says. “It’s right here in my backpack. An essay on the civil war!” He packs the sandwich away and pulls out the piece of paper. But the paper is damp, the words have all bled to together, and the paper is torn in half. “Whoops. Guess I’ll be asking for an extension. Again.”
Sara pats him on the head, then puts her phone down on the table and rushes upstairs to shower. “Wish me luck!”
“Luck!’ Milo calls after her. “What’s wrong, mom?”
“I can’t find my wallet.” She says, hastily rooting through a bag. “Have you seen it?”
“Hm… last night, you put it on the arm of the couch.” Milo offers.
She snaps her fingers. “Yes! You’re right.”
As she runs through to the living room, she slightly jostles the table. It collapses, sending everything on it flying. Milo watches as his newly packed lunch soars through the open window and lands in the mud. “No more bread, so I guess I’m just buttering the tuna.” He muses.
Then he notices that Sara’s phone is sticking out of the coffee pot. He stands up and pulls it out, wincing when it crackles in his hand. He feels a little jolt of electricity and drops it. The last remains of life in the phone shatter on the floor.
As he repacks his lunch again, he hears a crash from upstairs. A few moments later, Sara appears, a towel wrapped around her. Her hair is soaked, and her skin is bright red. “Plumbing.” She explains briefly. “Also, dad’s in the garden.”
Martin walks in the back door a few moments later, his clothes and hair absolutely soaked through. Mud stains his clothes and face, and a nasty bruise is blooming. “Brigette, is there anything washed?”
“The washing machine broke last night.” She says apologetically. “Have you seen my wallet?”
“Didn’t it get knocked out of the window when Diogee knocked over the TV last night?” Martin suggests. She groans, rushing into the garden to look. “Welp, I guess I’d better go dry off. What time is… ok, I’d better go quickly dry myself off.”
Sara bends down to pick up her phone. “I wouldn’t touch that.” Milo says. “You’re gonna get electrocuted.”
Sara sniffs. “Coffee pot?”
“Coffee pot.”
Sara groans. “Well, I’ll handle it when I get home, I am gonna miss the bus at this rate. Anyone seen my keys?”
“Didn’t you put them with mom’s wallet?” Milo asks.
“… and didn’t mom’s wallet end up in the attic last night?” Sara realises. “Crap. Mom! Mom, I know where your wallet is!”
Milo glances at the clock as he pulls his backpack onto his back. It’ll be tight, but he just might just make it to the bus stop if he runs.
He pulls on his jacket. One sleeve is ripped off, but one sleeve is better than no sleeves. He pats down his pocket for his keys.
But the keys slip out of his hands and skid across the floor. He chases them, diving to grab them before they slip into a crack.
As he does so, his mom and sister are hurrying back down the stairs. Brigette trips over the broken bannister, while Sara trips over Diogee. They both go flying in Milo’s direction.
Meanwhile, Martin exits his room, his clothes slightly drier. But he walks on a bad piece of floor, made even weaker by the water that flooded from the bathroom. The floor cracks underneath him, and he plummets downwards.
They all see disaster hurtling towards them like a train off the tracks, but none of them can do anything to stop it. And with a crash, a bang, and a significant wallop, they all collide with each other.
At the bottom of a tangled pile of limbs and bruises, Milo is crushed under the weight of three people who are bigger and heavier than he is. He groans, squirming. “I don’t need ribs anyway.”
They all roll off, standing up with matching groans and winces. They look at the clock, and the hands spelling out that they are all late. Then they look at each other, and they can’t help but laugh. “I’ll call the middle school, you call the high school.” Martin says, laughing.
“My ribs!” Sara complains jokingly, roughly ruffling Milo’s hair.
Milo bats her hand away, giggling. “What about my ribs? I had all three of you on top of me! And you’re not exactly light!”
“Pardon me, young man?” Brigette hangs up the phone and pokes his nose, smiling fondly. “That was just uncalled for.”
“Sorrrry, mom.” He sticks his tongue out at her.
They all laugh for a few minutes, while rushing around and trying to get ready to go out the door. “I’ll drop Sara off, she’s on my way.” Brigette offers. “You’ll have to take Milo.”
They hug tightly, bruised bodies and wet hair pressing against each other. The stress and chaos of the morning fade into nothing as they hug. None of them are annoyed. How could they be? They are used to this. This is their life, as manic and chaotic as always.
They split apart, all smiling widely. “Just another morning.” Brigette ruffles Sara’s hair and kisses Milo’s forehead.
“Just another morning.” They chorus.
Milo waves goodbye to his mom and sister as he hops into the car with his dad. They get stopped at every traffic light, and have to take a detour when the road is blocked by a herd of cows, so when they finally crash through the fence around the school carpark Milo is very late. As is Martin.
He hugs Milo tightly, ruffling his hair. “Have a good day.” He says. “Be good!”
“I will.” Milo says, squirming out of his grip and out of the car. “You be good too, ok?”
Martin sighs fondly as Milo explodes into peals of giggles. “I will. Cheeky.”
Milo giggles again, waves, and races off to the front door. Martin pulls out of the carpark, and immediately knocks over another section of fence.
Milo gets a slip from the reception, tells them about the broken fence, and heads to class. He sits down in between Melissa and Zack. “Glad you showed up.” Zack whispers. “What happened?”
“Mornings.” Milo replies. Melissa laughs. Zack just blinks at them.
The rest of the day passes in a flurry of classes and chaos. He doesn’t realise until lunchtime that his newly packed lunch is still sitting on the kitchen table.