I awoke to my son crying outside my bedroom door at 4:30 this morning. In my groggy state of mind I asked him what was wrong. He claimed he had a really bad stomach ache. I told him to go to the bathroom and see if it would go away if he, well, you know.
I went back to bed and lay awake for awhile, analyzing who should stay home from church with Paul in the morning, and who should stay home in the evening.
Anyways, as I got up 2 hours later, I came to the kitchen to see this:
Paul had made himself breakfast using a huge mixing bowl, 1/3 of a box of cereal and a pile of milk. There is nothing wrong with this boy's stomach except that it was very, very empty at 4:30am. My grocery bill is going to be horrendous when he's 14.
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