This was last year’s Mother’s Day breakfast in bed.
Carried in to me on a tray by a skinny little 12 year old boy.
Lining the tray was a (dirty) kitchen towel he had first used to carefully wipe the counters. The towel was topped with a pretty plate holding: yogurt, blueberries, strawberries and Â scrambled eggs. There was also iced coffee a newspaper and heart shaped peanut butter toast with M-O-M written with a knife (but probably his finger).
How will he ever top this?
If he gives me diamonds this year, I’ll still love the toast best.