Four-year-olds are very egocentric and have a skewed view of reality.

No, this isn't new information, just important to remember.

***

Got up this morning to feed LD. I hadn't heard a peep from Avadore, so I assumed he was still in bed. I decided I'd go back to bed myself. It's a chilly day outside, I'm still a wee bit tired from the lack of sleep last Saturday, and you know the advice they give parents: sleep when the kids do.

I went back to my bed to find Avadore lying across the entire width of the bed, a little pool of drool seeping into the sheet on the side of the bed I sleep I. I pushed his legs over and crawled into the other side.

Note to self: Avadore has very warm feet.

Of course, I was almost asleep when Avadore woke up, put his face right into mine and said, "Moooom -- it's light outside. It's time to get up. Open your eyes." I opened my eyes and saw my mutant four-eyed son staring back at me.

***

It may be the Idahoan in me, or that my second home growing up was my grandfather's farm, but is there anything better in the morning than the smell of frying pork products? Whenever my grandma fried eggs she fried them in bacon lard, whether there was bacon for breakfast that morning or not.

Grandma made huge breakfasts, but she had spent all of her adult life cooking for people who were going out to work in the fields, and that's mighty hard labor. So there was pancakes or toast, eggs, sausage or bacon, cereal, fruit she'd bottled the previous summer and grapefruit, and lots of it (all the food, not just the grapefruit). And that was after she had cut back. Some days she did something a little more special, like popovers, but most days it was pretty much the same thing. And that's not a bad thing.

What I would have to do to be able to eat half the food she'd put out for me...

Note to self: No matter what they say, even though soy sausages and soy bacon aren't that bad, they're not the same as the real thing.

***

Note to self: Time to go comment on the comments left a few days ago.