Mr. Breakfast
Yesterday, Eli 4.1 got up early. Very early.5 a.m. early. I always wake up when he opens the door, and if it’s pitch black outside, I know we’re in trouble. And when he gets up that early, it’s almost impossible to coax him into going back to sleep. So after about fifteen fruitless minutes, Gloria gets up and Eli heads downstairs.
That’s the routine. Eli goes downstairs, Gloria gathers up a change of clothes, and then she heads downstairs. She was so sleepy, though, that it took her longer, and she also went to the bathroom. We’re guessing about ten minutes passed from the time Eli left our bedroom.
Gloria goes downstairs and Eli’s happy to see her. “Hi, Mom,” he says, “I MADE BREAKFAST!”
Holy crap.
Eli 4.1 had toasted his waffles and gotten himself a juice box. He’d also turned on the t.v. (and stereo, and DVD player), put in his Scooby-Doo video, and was happily watching as he ate his breakfast. He even had a napkin. Another fifteen minutes, and he would have started baking his own bread.
Okay, it wasn’t perfect. He’d spilled some of the juice, so there were napkins all over the floor. The freezer wasn’t closed—the waffle box was kind of jammed in sideways and not all the way. It scared me to death that he was using the toaster (and he got the lecture about not using the toaster). Still, though, he made his own breakfast, and he was so proud that Gloria went easy on him.
This morning, when Eli asked if he could go downstairs, Gloria sat up straight in the bed and said “I’M GOING WITH YOU.”
That’s probably a good idea.
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