Sunday mornings are special, but this week I was not best pleased with Robbie when I woke up on Sunday morning because he had woken me up at 3am when he came to bed. Does he seriously think that I want to chat at that time in the morning? He always knows how to get around me, very sensibly he didn't try to make excuses he just apologised and then plodded off to make me a cup of tea.
When he came back to bed he cuddled up next to me, looked me in the eyes and said that he had something to tell me. I wondered what he could possibly want to say, he looked very serious, then he announced that he had run out of marmalade! I told him that this wasn't the moment to be talking about marmalade, but he just gave me that lost little boy look that he does so well. Then he snuggled up closer and told me to make sure that I choose thick cut Golden Shred when I buy his next pot of marmalade. Sometimes words fail me!
The title for this post comes from the poem The King's Breakfast by A A Milne.
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