The trouble with coffee…

The trouble with mostly drinking tea in the mornings is that on the odd day I do have coffee, it’s really effective.

Recently The Five-Year-Old had the misfortune of traipsing downstairs thirty minutes after I did, when the blessed sweet joy of the extra caffeine was in full effect.

Mommyo, melodically: ♪ ♫ ♬ “The Five-Year-Old!” ♫ <big hug> ♫ ♬  ♪ “I’m so happy to see you! ♩ ♫ Can I please get you some breakfast?” ♩ ♪  ♬

The Five-Year-Old, hungrily: “Yes!”

Mommyo, opening the cabinet and finding only bare shelves: ♫ ♪ “Oh Five-Year-Old, we’re out of dishes. ♫ ♪ Let me see if the dishwasher’s done.” ♫ ♪

Mommyo, opening the dishwasher to discover I’d forgotten to run it last night: ♩ ♫ ♬ “Oh, Mommyo, why didn’t you start the washer? ♪ ♩ ♫ Now it stinks and you’ll have to clean a bowl. ♪ ♩ Such tragedy, it delays The Five-Year-Old’s breakfast! ♩ ♫ Tra-la-la, la-la-la-la.” ♩ ♫ ♬

The Five-Year-Old, groundedly: “Mommyo, you don’t have to sing everything, you know.”

Mommyo, well aware that in the last stages of a rather throaty sort of cold her singing voice has more enthusiasm than melody: ♫ ♬ “Why not? ♩ ♩ Don’t you like my singing?” ♩ ♫ ♬

The Five-Year-Old, kindly: “I love it! But it’s hurting my ears.”

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