Breakfast in Bed - Whose Bright Idea was this?

Father's Day.

Sleeping in.

Snuggling with kids.

Eli wants to make his Daddy some scrambled eggs and serve it in bed.

I help him crack and scramble some eggs, and we put it on a plate.

We enter the room, exclaiming: "Happy Father's D --"

Lizzie whips around, and as we're saying "day," the heel of her foot lands precisely in the middle of the plate of eggs. The eggs fly everywhere.

Eli starts crying.

Lizzie starts crying.

Adam says he doesn't mind a little heel in his eggs, they're just fine.

I'm picking up creamy scrambled eggs from the carpet, thinking, who started this tradition anyway?! I mean, we don't let our kids eat anywhere in the house except the kitchen and sometimes the living room for movie nights, and now because of the American stigma ideal that our children have already embraced, we have scrambled eggs in the bed. And I remembered that on Mother's day, food ended up in the bed as well.

I'm putting my foot down - just like Lizzie did into the eggs. No more Breakfast in bed!