It was early morning, just past 9:00. You were still asleep in bed as you tried to get some rest. At least that was until you caught a whiff of something, the smell of burnt food. You immediately sat up in bed but before you could get up out of bed, the bedroom door opened, and in walked your husband, Leon, your 2 1/2-year-old son, and in Leon’s arms was your 4-month-old daughter. Your son was the one carrying a small tray of what appeared to be your breakfast. On the tray was the charred remains of what appeared to be eggs, a small gift box, and a large bouquet of roses. Both Leon and your son had matching smiles on their faces as you looked at your breakfast.

“Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart. Our crazy little monster decided to make eggs for his mom but he might’ve burned them a little.” He laughed, pressing a kiss on your lips.