You Get What You Need

This morning Mike jumped out of bed at 7 am. That's right. Since we moved, my sweet husband who used to pop out of bed sometime before the sun rose ( I think it's called dawn. I'm not sure. I try stay away from all matters concerning anything before 9am.) now wakes up at a more reasonable hour. So, he jumped out of bed and began chattering about breakfast. As he danced around the bed, there was mention of poached eggs, croissants, and espresso. Didn't I want to get up and have a snack? We could whip something up, or maybe we could stroll to a nearby cafe. I nodded my head vigorously under the blankets in an attempt to appear cheery. All of his suggestions sounded great - in about another hour. Of course, Sarah soon started "talking" about breakfast too. Now, her talks are just as lively as Mike's, but they tend to be a bit louder - like the neighbors down the street get to hear what she thinks.

At this point, I had no choice but to slide out of bed and deal with the chatter. I fixed Baby Fife a bottle of milk. Papa Fife got to fix his own oatmeal and drip coffee. This is what it looks like when a Fife doesn't get what it wants:


Want