Breakfast is supposed to be the most important meal of the day but it also may rob me of my sanity.
I am not a morning person, never have been, and the kids know it. Its best for all concerned if everyone just sticks to the routine and we get to school (and Tim Horton's) as soon as possible. I'm not a major grouch in the morning, I just don't like to talk and I don't respond well to loud noises and general mayhem and chaos. Other than that I am a pleasure and a joy to be with in the morning.
This morning, like every morning, I stumbled out of bed and down the hall to call the kids upstairs for breakfast. I vaguely remember setting out the cereal and milk and telling the kids that they had 20 minutes to eat before they had to get dressed. I then stumbled back to my room to shower and dress.
Twenty minutes later I returned to the kitchen to make sure the kids were nearly done eating. They hadn't even started. When I questioned them as to why they were just starting to eat here's what I was told,
Crafty: Mischief choked on some cereal. He was coughing like crazy.
Dude: I thought he was going to die or something, like maybe he'd have to go to the hospital.
Crafty: So we took him to the hospital.
Mischief: The ambulance came and everything. I really was dying.
Crafty: At the hospital the doctors tried to help him
Dude: But he died.
Crafty: So we had to have a funeral for him.
Dude: We just finished putting him in the ground.
Mischief: You should have been here, it was really sad. I'm really going to miss you.
Crafty: You're not really dead, we were just pretending.
Mischief: (sniff, sniff) right, I forgot. Pass the milk please.
I just shook my head and went back to the morning routine knowing that one day all too soon I will miss mornings like this one.