Our morning routine has evolved over the years into a pretty nice little sequence. The kids come running into our bedroom to get us up, typically just a little earlier than we would like. They climb into our bed and start trying to wake us up to get them breakfast while we struggle to convince them that it’s not quite time yet.

We’re all typically up and out of bed by 6:45.

The other day, however, our three year old was the first one awake. It was much later than was typical – close to 7:15, in fact. Instead of bounding into our room, he opened the door slowly and plodded in. He looked very, very sad. His mom asked him what was wrong.

“There’s a bowl,” he said. “A bowl on the counter.”

“A bowl?” his mom repeated. I pulled my head back down under the covers, hoping that no one had noticed I was awake.

“Yes,” he said.

His mom was sleepy. “A bowl?” she repeated.

“Yes. A bowl. And…it’s empty.” he said.

I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing.

Unfortunately, this meant that I was the one nominated to get up and go look at the empty bowl he’d carefully placed on the counter. He looked at me and started to giggle.

I got him his cereal.