My son awoke early today.
He was excited about sneaking down into the kitchen with his Daddy to cook breakfast for me. The meal was beautiful -- pink pancakes with cranberries topped with maple syrup and red, white and pink candy hearts.
It was delivered with a huge Tinkerbell valentine, one of those ones where the image shifts, and Russell Stover chocolates in a small heart-shaped box covered with red roses. He was very particular about which box of chocolates they buy for me.
My son had worked hard at keeping these plans a secret from me all week. Actually, he had two secrets to keep. He and I had written and produced our own Goosebumps book called "Night of the Beating Heart" as a present for his Daddy.
While the pancakes were cooking, my son came upstairs to announce that I couldn't get out of bed yet. I protested, saying I wanted to get Daddy's presents out of the closet so we could read the book to him when we went downstairs.
"We're not going downstairs, Mom," he whispered to me. "We're having breakfast in bed."
He was excited about sneaking down into the kitchen with his Daddy to cook breakfast for me. The meal was beautiful -- pink pancakes with cranberries topped with maple syrup and red, white and pink candy hearts.
It was delivered with a huge Tinkerbell valentine, one of those ones where the image shifts, and Russell Stover chocolates in a small heart-shaped box covered with red roses. He was very particular about which box of chocolates they buy for me.
My son had worked hard at keeping these plans a secret from me all week. Actually, he had two secrets to keep. He and I had written and produced our own Goosebumps book called "Night of the Beating Heart" as a present for his Daddy.
While the pancakes were cooking, my son came upstairs to announce that I couldn't get out of bed yet. I protested, saying I wanted to get Daddy's presents out of the closet so we could read the book to him when we went downstairs.
"We're not going downstairs, Mom," he whispered to me. "We're having breakfast in bed."
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