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, John, your 2 1/2-year-old son, and in John’s arms was your 4-month-old daughter. Your son was the one carrying a small tray of what appeared to be your breakfast, there was a small assortment of food on your plate. The pancakes looked extremely good with a small slice of butter on top, the bacon was completely burnt with one of the pieces being complete charcoal, but the scrambled eggs looked alright, despite looking a little overdone. Both John and your son had matching grins on their faces as you looked at your breakfast.

“Happy Mother’s Day, m’eudail. Our wee lad had a great idea of making ya breakfast in bed. And that delicious lookin’ bacon was made by me, of course.” He winked, letting out a small chuckle.