Today was the first day of Tetra Quartet Summer Camp for my daughters, 14 and 15. They both play violin.

The 15-year-old is a night owl. But for camp, she needs to wake up by 7:30 am, not her preferred hour of noon.

She was a sleeping angel – so cute! – who was about to become a demon. I dreaded it. I gave her a hug and kiss. Nothing.

I nudged her a little later. Nothing.

I yelled out from the hallway, “Got to get up soon!” Nothing.

My mind flashed past articles I read about not waking your children. Something about being a helicopter parent. I’m not a helicopter parent! Still…she needed to get up. My BP was rising.

At last, she woke. Grumpy. She slammed things. She packed her music stand roughly. I held my tongue. I asked her to do that last night! How dare she get angry because she didn’t prepare! But I remained quiet.

We were in the car. She wanted me to hurry, because tardy musicians must do a little song and dance for the (on time) group.

As calmly as I could manage, I said, “You weren’t prepared for this morning. Your oversight is not my emergency. I’m not going to rush and risk an accident. You have a cell phone with an alarm clock. I will not wake you up anymore. If you can’t get up, you’ll be late. Your song and dance consequence is not my concern.” Sitting in the backseat, the 14-year-old’s silence was deafening. Good – a bit of peer pressure for the older sibling.

We sat in peace for the rest of the ride.

I realized that had I said something earlier, when she was huffing and puffing, and slamming things, we would have had a “blow out.” Instead, I waited until I was calm (and she was calmer) and stated in a factual matter what was what.

Result: no arguments.

Ah! Sweet music.