It was barely even 9 in the morning when you were woken up, tousled around in your bed by your child and your husband (who was just as childish).

“Mommy, get up! Get up!” you were urged by your 5-year-old.

“Yeah, mommy, get up,” Satoru snickered along with his kid. Once they had managed to successfully drag you, albeit very grumpy, out of bed, they led you downstairs, and your child raced ahead of you to grab something from the living room. Your eyes lit up, your smile wide as the kid ran up to you with a bouquet of flowers bigger than them. This was obviously a team effort, because Satoru's grin was identical to your child's.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!” and with a grin so wide, how could you be frustrated they woke you up?

“You like ‘em?” your husband whispered, wrapping an arm around your waist. “They’re all for you, mama.”