We’re preparing for Sissy’s birthday soon. Double digits. That’s big.
On your birthday in our house you get breakfast in bed. You place your order like room service by writing it up the night before and leaving it outside your door. Then your family gets up early to make you the perfect breakfast on a tray and delivers it while you lounge around in your pajamas. It’s as awesome as it sounds.
Last year Sissy invited Piper to get in bed with her and nibble off the edges of her tray. It didn’t go so well. This morning on the way to church they were debating whether Piper would be invited back for breakfast in bed when the birthday morning arrives.
“I don’t know, P,” Sissy said. “Don’t you remember what happened last year?”
“It was awesome?” Piper asked.
“Not exactly. You spilled my juice and sneezed all over my muffins.”
“Seriously? Why are you still talking about that? Just let it go, Sissy.”
I can’t say yet whether another birthday breakfast in bed will be extended to the Piper. If she’s that lucky, I’ll have the tissues ready.