Your husband is furiously whipping up pancakes in the morning. His hair is somewhat messy since he had to wake up early, and you groggily walk out of the bedroom, and rub your eyes. You notice that the kids are already up, their bibs on, and each of them hold their utensils. He started to hand out the food in a timely manner, and he poured milk into their cups.

He then handed them syrup, cuts some banana into stars and hearts, and then added whip cream on top. Francis makes everything from scratch.

“Eat.” He said simply, his voice hard and commanding. He then went back to the pan to make more pancakes.