Leanna Kay

We woke up this morning to icy roads and school closings. I caught the school closings before the kids’ alarms turned on, so I turned the noisy clocks off and crawled back into my warm bed anticipating another hour of blessed sleep. Two minutes later, Lauren came bounding into my room with enough energy to lead a 6 a.m. aerobics class for the hyperactive.

“Is school closed?” she asked while bouncing on the bed next to me.

“Yeah. Crawl in here and we’ll go back to sleep.” I was hoping to turn this into one of those precious Hallmark moments we mothers remember long after our children leave the nest.

She crawled in next to me and started babbling about snow and school and sleep and TV shows. Had I been more awake, this could have been a bonding moment. But at 6 a.m., all I wanted to do was find her “off” button. (She doesn’t have one by the way. I checked.)

Finally, she got tired of my mumbled responses and went off in search of something else to do. The something else did end up being one of those Hallmark moments. She came upstairs ten minutes later with breakfast she’d prepared for me.

It was dry toast and water. Kind of like the meals I imagine they serve in prison. Only this toast was so blackened that the warden who served it to his inmates would find himself facing a lawsuit.

But of course, I didn’t mention that. Instead I ate the toast and raved about how delicious it was. I think I might have even said it was the best toast ever. Whatever compliments I gave must have hit the mark because Lauren went trotting off with a huge smile on her face.

Then ten minutes later she was back. With ANOTHER piece of dry toast burned even worse than the first. “Mom, I made you more since you loved it so much.”

Now there’s your Hallmark moment.