She mentions the four letter word and another springs to mind, bringing with it thoughts about impromptu language lessons and trying to explain what that might mean and how to properly pronounce it.

Luckily we´re talking about loving a breakfast though.  Something so delicious that came at just the right timing.  I´m sure I can come up with something.

Instead of using the next 3 minutes before the clock hits a convenient 3:50 to cheat, I know I should so I do start (obviously), although a specific breakfast still hasn´t come to mind. 

Each year before the start of the first day of school my mom would take us out to breakfast.  I was priviledged to have those simply because it signifies how amazing my parents are.  Or breakfast with Dad every third week since he took turns watching my two brothers and I climb to the highest point in the McDonalds playground.  For me, that´s all I wanted – once I waved and saw my Daddy waving back, I was happy and content to come down and finish eating.  As for what my brothers did during their special, about monthly breakfast I can´t say for I wasn´t there.  I had my Daddy all to myself for my morning and they had him for theirs and I consider that as being priviledged. 

  Or maybe the breakfasts with all of us.  We generally eat dinner together, especially now that everyone is back home: my older brother moved back in, I came back from a few months away, Dad´s back after a few scary days in the hospital; but as for breakfast, that´s generally left for special occasions. 

  I´m assuming there was a breakfast set out Christmas morning just like in the past, but I was spending the day with another family very far away. 

And yet even just this morning, the leftover oatmeal left on the stove with a note to me attached reminded me of the love that can go into even the simplest meal and how much  I have been blessed.


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