Friday morning. My feet had not even hit the floor, and they were already screaming.
“What in the world could possibly be wrong ALREADY”?!,” my voice bellowed down the stairs.
“They’re eating ice cream for breakfast,” said the older brother.
My feet hit the floor. I marched down the stairs, ready to do major clean up of the puddles of ice cream that I could just imagine was all over the floor in front of the freezer.
There they were, calmly sitting the table, their bowls full of ice cream, as they scooped up spoonful after spoonful.
Ice cream for breakfast. Do you really have a problem with that?
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That is so cute. But why did they think it was okay to eat ice cream for breakfast. Is that a Friday treat? Sounds good to me!
I’m going to totally use this to my advantage. Ice cream for breakfast. They’ll remember it forever and I’ll be so cool won’t I?
The stuff they sometimes come up with. It’s that commotion before I even rise that does me in, some days.