When I was a kid, every morning at six my grandfather would come into my room to wake me up and give me a glass of warm milk. He was very regimented. He woke up at four every morning and went to bed at six every night. Bringing me my morning milk was just part of his routine. And it was also the only way to get me to drink my milk. At the time, I hated it. I was a kid. I wanted to sleep. But now … it’s funny how differently you think about stuff like that when you get older.