The wonders of cold toast...
So, this was going to be a 'every damn time I think I'm getting close to being on top of things I get a fucking migraine' post.
But then Jack made me breakfast in bed. All on his own. He insisted Daddy couldn't help and produced two slices of toast and marmalade and a glass of fizzy pop. Ok the toast was cold, but it was toasted and had butter and marmalade spread over at least half of the surface.
He was so pleased with himself that he went on to make Daddy a peanut butter and jam sandwich and a slice of toast for himself.
I am still miffed about the three day migraine, but that was a pretty good antidote!
But then Jack made me breakfast in bed. All on his own. He insisted Daddy couldn't help and produced two slices of toast and marmalade and a glass of fizzy pop. Ok the toast was cold, but it was toasted and had butter and marmalade spread over at least half of the surface.
He was so pleased with himself that he went on to make Daddy a peanut butter and jam sandwich and a slice of toast for himself.
I am still miffed about the three day migraine, but that was a pretty good antidote!