The other weekend, while my wife was out walking the dogs, the boys burst into our bedroom.
“Daddy!” the four year old shouted.
“We made you breakfast!” added his older brother.
“Yeah, come look! Come look!”
I followed them out to the kitchen, where they had set up a plate with bananas, dry cereal, and a cup of yogurt. “MMmmm,” I said. “Looks delicious!”
As I sat down, however, the four year old stuck out his hand. “All you need to do is make the chocolate milk.”
Fair enough, I figured. I nodded and redirected to the fridge. As I was pulling out the milk, the six year old sat down. “And a waffle,” he added.
“Well, uh, okay.” I opened the freezer to pull out the frozen waffles.
“And an egg,” he added. “Remember the egg!”
“And toast,” his little brother chimed in. “Don’t forget toast.”
I looked back to the table, where they were both sitting expectantly at their places. My untouched food sat at my place between them. “I love that you guys made breakfast for me,” I said.
They smiled and cheered.
Ah well. We’ll work on subtlety another day.