I wake up grumpy. Always have, probably always will.
It doesn't matter how much sleep I get, I hate to wake up in the mornings. It takes me a good two hours to wake up and be human. Before that, I'm just on autopilot.
I married a morning person. I've largely succeeded over the years in corrupting him and making him a night owl. But his true colors still shine brightest in the mornings.
Mostly, he's learned to leave me alone while I'm waking up. I don't want any chit chat, I don't want any hanky panky, I don't want any chipper happy joy joy, thank you very much. Shut up, leave me alone, and keep the blinds closed. Hmpf.
Sunday morning, Darren got crazy. He started harrassing me in a fun-loving way about getting out of bed. I wouldn't budge. I couldn't even chew him out; all I could do was growl. He pounced on me. He ticked me. Eventually, when I made it to the bathroom and started brushing my teeth, he kept joking with me and being all annoyingly happy until I wanted to knock his head off. I glared at him in the mirror and grunted.
"You make me smile," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
"You're a freak," I retorted. "How do I make you smile when I'm bein' cranky?"
"Because even when you're cranky," he answered, "there's this underlying joy about you. And it makes me smile."
And dadblast it, that made ME smile. GRRRR! I checked it real quick, though, and said, "HUMPF! Yo momma!"
Then he gave me a giant squeezy hug and went on his way, finally leaving me in peace to enjoy my grumpiness with a big ol' smile on my face.