Breakfast in Bed, Made by a Six-Year-Old

On Valentine's Day, my six-year-old son decided to make me breakfast in bed. He told me to stay in my room. I heard a lot of crashing.

Twenty minutes later, he came in very slowly carrying a tray with both hands, his tongue sticking out in concentration. On the tray was a bowl of cereal with no milk, a single slice of toast with roughly half a jar of strawberry jam, a glass of orange juice filled to the brim and a heart he'd cut out of a paper towel.

He'd also brought me a flower from the garden. It was a dandelion. He'd put it in a cup of water.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me eat every bite, asking "Is it good?" after each one. It was, I told him, the best breakfast anyone had ever made me.

It took an hour to clean up the kitchen. I'd do it again a thousand times.