Hannah skipped toward me this morning with a large grin on her face and informed me that I was, under no circumstances, allowed to get up. I said, “Hannah, you realize that if I don’t get up, you won’t get any bacon, right?” She considered this quandary very carefully before saying, “Nope! You have to stay in bed.”
She made toast — all by her big seven year-old self — and brought it to me with pomp, circumstance, and a big “ta da!”
Then she showered me with gifts; all things that she made herself. This was her Mother’s Day masterpiece, which was presented rolled up, wrapped in gold paper, and tied with a curly ribbon. The picture shows the house and front yard, with details of the garden, where I have spent a lot of time lately.
Sam and Abby were sweet with hugs and Happy Mother’s Day wishes, but evidently are too cool to make stuff for me anymore.