Cathleen lay face down on her bed, her delicate features lost somewhere in her pillows under the mountains of hair.
"Cathleen baby," her mother sat on the bed and gently shook her daughter. "it's time to wake up," The magic of her mother's faint irish accent was that every word seemed mystical, when Cathleen was a little girl stories had always been so much more magical when her mother read them. "Come on darling, wake up," as childhood turn to adolescence however, it soon became clear that no form of soft aceent would make mornings any better.
She groaned slowly and rolled over to face her mother. What time is it?" her own ever so slightly Irsh twang hoarse from late nights.
This got her a slightly mischievous smirk, the edges on her mother's rose tinged mouth pulling up at edges. "Ten to ten darling,"
Cathleen groaned again and glared at her mother. She rolled back onto her pillow and grumbled something about how it was an wicked evil sin to wake someone before day break. Her mother stood up and left the room chuckeling at her daugters reaction. "You've still got to wake up Cathleen," she smiled as she walked down the hall.