I love Saturday mornings.
The whole weekend is spread out in front of you.
The possibilites are endless.
For us, Saturday mornings usually start with a little body climbing up in bed with us.
And sticking her little corpse feet right on my stomach.
We cuddle a bit and then I get the inevitable
"Mommy, I sure am hungry. Can you make breakfast now?"
So I get up, leave those two all snuggled under the covers, and stagger down the stairs.
First things first.
And on Saturday morning breakfasts, the cream comes from a cute little pitcher, rather than the boring ol' carton.
Then I slave away making
pototoes and sausage
and she eats 4 bites
and then wants a poptart.
But it's Saturday morning.
So she gets one.
But only if mama gets a bite.
Then we linger over coffee
shoo the cat off the table 46 times
watch the rain
and finally get ready for whatever the day may bring.
Saturday morning breakfast.
One of my favorite things.