That Morning

That Morning

“Mommy, Daddy! Wake up!!” four-year-old Jenny yelled next to her parent’s bed.

Mom bolted, jumping out of bed and landing on the floor next to Jenny. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

Dad sat up wide eyed, listening.

“It’s time to get up now, silly!” Jenny said.

Both Mom and Dad took a deep breath and started relaxing, then Jenny added, “I made you breakfast!”

“What?” Mom said, new butterflies hitting her stomach.

“I made you breakfast! I made it myself.”

“Oh that’s sweet Honey,” Mom said tentatively, “What did you make for us?”

“It’s a surprise!” Jenny said, practically dancing on her excited legs. “Come on!” She pulled on her mother’s hand.

Mom immediately noticed Jenny’s hand was sticky and also had some flour on it. Now panic was moving in.

“Did you make it on the stove?” Mom said, as the three of them moved down the hallway.

“Pffft!” said Jenny, “You know I’m not allowed to use the stove except with you, you silly!”

Mom closed her eyes in relief.

“So, you made us breakfast.” Dad said, for lack of anything better to say.

As they got to the kitchen, there was a bit of a mess, but not a lot. The stove was cold (Mom checked it quickly.) On the table were two bowls, spoons and two coffee cups.

“Sit down!” she said excitedly.

They sat. The bowls were filled with cereal, and what had appeared to be flour on Jenny’s hand, powdered sugar. “I would have put the milk in but I couldn’t reach it...” Jenny said, excitedly. Licking more sugar off her sticky fingers.

“Honey, this is lovely, why did you do this?” Mom asked.

“Because I love you!” Jenny said.

That morning was remembered by her parents for the rest of their lives.