Something Told Me

This weekend, we had a poker party followed by guests staying with us Saturday night. Anticipating that we might need plenty of good food for breakfast on Sunday, I got a bunch of food in preparation, including a package of cinnamon rolls. Benjamin adores cinnamon rolls.

Sunday morning, we ended up making pancakes, pigs in blankets, and bacon, so the cinnamon rolls weren't necessary. This fact did not go unnoticed by my son, and he has had them on his mind all week.

Tuesday night, he asked me if I could make them for breakfast on Wednesday morning before school. I agreed, but told him that I had to make sure to get up early to get them started. Of course, being the wonderful parent I am, I forgot. Wednesday morning when he came down at the usual time and asked about them, I no longer had time to make them. Cue one disappointed little boy. 

Last night, he asked me again to make them tomorrow (this) morning. I told him I would do my best to remember, and that maybe he could help me out. So who do you think comes down the stairs half an hour early this morning...

I drag out of bed and go preheat the oven to get the rolls started. As I'm doing that, he's telling me that something was talking to him and woke him up and told him to come downstairs and wake me up for cinnamon rolls. When I relayed this conversation to J, J's comment was, "yeah, that was his STOMACH talking to him." So true. He ate one and took one in his lunch and would've eaten a second for breakfast, but I was afraid his head would spin off from all the sugar.