At some point I am fairly certain I am going to receive an award for being the best wife, EVAH!
Yesterday morning I was up early with The Muffin (try 5:00am) helping him search for a variety of objects he needed to pack in his work bucket.
While he was stuffing his bucket with apples and MiO he told me that he had been forced to eat okra pickles every morning this week for breakfast.
What?
Who does that?
Apparently men who can't find anything to eat for breakfast. Except for maybe okra pickles.
Don't judge me, please.
I was fairly certain that he'd at least reach for the bread and peanut butter. That's exactly what happens when our 13-year-old son can't find anything to eat.
Last week, I made The Muffin beautiful breakfast sandwiches and lovely wrapped each one up in red cling wrap left over from Christmas. I rocked it.
Last night I made up for the disgraceful way I have treated breakfast in this house.
I made pancakes.
I even made homemade syrup (mostly because we were almost out of syrup).
This morning he was up bright and early for a bike ride. He and his buddy plan on going 80 miles today. The Muffin has been sniffling with miserable seasonal allergies so I worry about him.
Can you blow your nose and ride a bike at the same time?
I'm pretty sure he did not take a box of Kleenex with him.
In any event, I was up again making sure he had what he needed.
And (drum roll, please) I made him a blueberry smoothie.
See? Wife of the year.
It's about time for Josiah to get up. Boys of 13 are always hungry.
I wonder if we have any okra pickles left?
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