The morning routine in my house starts pretty early... around 5 am for me and about 5:30 for my 6 year old daughter. Since our landlord lives directly above us and doesn't get up as early as we do, I've taught my little one to be especially quiet until we leave for work and daycare. So, this morning, as I was
applying pineapple-scented pliable molding creme to my hair shaving my incredibly manly beard, her sudden cries of,
"Daddy! Daddy!" brought me running.
Expecting the worst, I rushed out of the bathroom, prepared to tackle whatever calamity had caused her to be so uncharacteristically noisy first thing in the morning.
"Daddy, look!" she said, pointing to her cereal bowl.
There, floating in the remaining milk, were the last few bits of her
Cap'n Crunch, arranged to form a perfect smiley face. She was practically beaming with pride.
You know what? So was I.
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