grouch

She stood there, with her arms folded over her chest, scowling.

"Hurry up, or we'll be late. Where are the passports?"

Her father chuckled, handing over all four passports, before turning back to pack his bag. She stalked from the room after carefully placing the passports in her backpack next to her novel and bunny. Then she proceeded to harry the other members of her family, berating them for not being prepared and packing the night before as she had. Sometimes, she offered bits of advice, “Don’t take that sweater, it won’t be cold... If you take that many shoes, we can’t shop for more.”

When they reached the check-in counter, she cleared her throat so the attendant would realise she was a few inches shorter than where she was looking. Briskly she sorted the passports, IDs and gave the lady behind the counter all the pertinent information regarding the travel arrangements. Her signature scowl allowed the attendant to follow her clear instructions, instead of being baffled at the sight of a nine-year-old calmly leading her family on holiday.

The rest of the trek through the airport passed by without concern. She shuffled her parents past the coffee shop, herded them through security, and ushered her brother out of the video game store. They spread out momentarily as she carefully read the synopses of four crime thrillers, before selecting the thickest one to purchase.

As the plane took off, her father looked at her, affectionately pinching her knee, “You truly are an old soul, miss bossy boots.”