A pancake breakfast compliments of my daughter. She does have a sweet side that peeks its head out every once in a while. She made pancakes for everyone and brought our plates to the bedroom and waited for us to wake up. And then waited some more. Still we slept. Finally, she woke us up and said, "Hey! Can ya'll come on and eat? It's getting cold." She was right. They were cold by then, but still delicious.
John-Heath provided many little gifts, too, including his own version of breakfast in bed which was a Nutri-grain bar stapled to a sweet little poem (see below). He later asked if he could eat it. He was hungry.
Flowers from my children and husband which liven up the kitchen.
Flowers from my niece which liven up my bathroom.
A Paula Dean skillet (Heeyy, yaaa'll) from my sister. I think she feels bad that the cookware set she bought me for Christmas didn't quite pan out (pardon the pun).
Aren't special days fun?
This is the poem that was attached to my gift from John-Heath.
Breakfast in Bed
Since it is your day,
I have something to say:
Don't lift your head.
Have breakfast in bed!
Just take a look.
You don't have to cook!
I don't like to brag
But it's breakfast in a bag!
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