The Art of Yawning

I wake up to my wife complaining of feeling queasy.  I take that as my cue to start the morning routine without her.  Normally it is her that takes charge of the morning duties; clothing and feeding our Kindergartener, and walking him to school.  But today it’s my turn.  I usually begin days like today on a better note than the ones I ‘sleep-in’ on.  So even though my first reaction to “Honey, I feel queasy, can you…” was along the mental lines of, “Oh, come on!”, I get up anyway.  Anything to make my wife’s long day smoother.


So here I am, back home from walking my son to school, when it occurs to me that I haven’t even had breakfast – decaf coffee doesn’t count.  Do I whip up some eggs and fry up some delicious sausage?  Heat up a bowl of warm oatmeal?  Nope.  I will most likely wait until lunch to eat.


My youngest has stirred, so therefore I hear both him and my wife traipsing around upstairs.  I guess that would be my cue to end this post for now.



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