As I was just beginning to wake, you know that spot, halfway in dreamland not quite ready for reality, I thought I heard what sounded like small "explosions" coming from down the hall.
As I became more and more lucid I could hear my "angel" singing and puttering in the kitchen.
I listened to the DJ on the radio remind me it was Mother's Day so I smiled figuring I was in for a real treat...
breakfast in bed.
Then, it happened again, a couple more of those small explosions, but the dear child was still singing and puttering, wasn't stressed no panic in her voice so I figured there wasn't much of a problem. Or rather I PRAYED there wasn't much of a problem.
I fought back an urge to spring from the bed and go see what sort of mayhem awaited me in the kitchen, instead I busied myself with straightening the sheet and comforter around myself and fluffing my pillow...
breakfast in bed.
Our dog Max came bounding into the room and onto the bed burrowing under the covers like a scared rabbit with a wolf snapping at his back legs!
"You okay Max? Everything going alright in there?" I asked as I petted the long sausage shaped body under the covers. He lifted his head out from under the covers and snorted before ducking back under.
I had begun to dread what I would find in the kitchen once I got out of bed, when
In, proudly, but cautiously walked, my 5 year old angel, that large breakfast tray quivering in her small hands.
She was still singing some nonsensical tune she made up about Mother's Day. I smiled, she had the plate covered, the coffee mug had spilled coming down the hallway and the newspaper now had a sepia tint to it.
I, in need of caffeine, took the mug as she placed the tray over my legs and then, with a magicians flourish,. pulled the napkin away and gave a resounding "Ta DA!"...
breakfast in bed.
