Late Breakfast


Every morning I get pushed from the bed, I groggily go to our toddler’s room to either get her back to sleep or give up and take her to the lounge. I think about how on earth can she survive this sleep deprivation, three years now and we are still here, I lost count of how many times I was up last night. I look at my watch, mistake. Why is she so happy, how is she so happy? “Daddy I want breakfast”, I agree and set about fashioning something. We sit down to eat together which consists of me being talked at as my brain doesn’t function at speed on this little sleep. We finish eating and my wife arrives for a late breakfast and so ground hog day begins.

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