Who is the more dramatic — my extroverted tween or my philosophical teen?

Stoked from a morning show-choir performance and an afternoon rehearsal, Carolyn is lumbering around the kitchen floor, belting “I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS!!!” Peter, his nose in a book, expresses a stoic disapproval. “Peter, you never ask for anything,” says my wife, raising her voice over Carolyn’s singing. “If you could have anything, regardless…