It was around 8:45 a.m.
The dogs were barking incessantly at something or another…or both something AND another.
I had just pushed my cat, who was dry heaving in my ear, off my bed for the 82nd time since I went to bed that night.
I heard my youngest yawning and making noises, indicating that he was awake. Damn dogs.
I went to punch my husband, who seemingly sleeps through everything…or ignores everything…only to make contact with mattress. I had forgotten that he had to take his parents somewhere, earlier in the morning.
I flop over onto my stomach, in hopes of falling back to sleep, at least for a few minutes.
My son comes bouncing into my room to collect Oscar, the yippy dog, who had just jumped back up into my bed after his morning bark session.
“Mommy. I’m going to take Oscar to pee. You stay in bed.” My little guy tells me.
“OK, thank you my love. No worries. Here is where I’ll stay.” I might have said. But it probably came out as “Shhh…I’m trying to sleep more.”
For the first time in history, my son remembered to keep the door unlocked when he took the dog out. So, I didn’t have to come downstairs and allow him back in.
So, in bed I stayed.
I heard noises coming from the kitchen. For a moment, I thought that I’d be wise to inspect. Just in case. But then I thought of a better idea, I placed one of my EXTREMELY uncomfortable pillows over my head.
A few minutes later, I hear muffled (because of the pillow) footsteps coming toward my side of the bed.
I remove the pillow to see who is wanting to disturb me now.
I find my son.
Holding a plate with toast on it.
I decide not to yell at him.
“Mommy, I made this for you.”
I almost cry as he hands me the plate with 2 pieces of very dry toast on it.
“No one has ever made me breakfast in bed before. Thank you!” I tell him.
He gets this very pleased look on his face and goes bouncing back downstairs mumbling something about killing zombies and playing frisbee golf.
Of course, before I decide what I’m going to do with this toast, I take a picture for prosperity.
I think about how adorable my kid is.
I wonder why no one else in my house has ever done this for me before because, WOW…so cute.
I look at my dog who is looking back and forth between me and my toast.
I take a bite so I can tell my son, in all honesty, that I did eat the wonderful breakfast he made me.
And I feed the rest to my dog.
He liked having breakfast in bed, too.
Then I head downstairs because my son was yelling that he was hungry and could I make him some breakfast.