Summary: Little girl tries to surprise Daddy one morning, but gets in over her head.

The house was quiet when I woke up, sun streaming through the window and hitting me squarely in the eyes. Squinting, I roll away from the window, groggily searching for you under the covers. We were out late celebrating the night before, and up a little while longer as we explored our new house, enjoying the unfamiliar privacy it afforded us. The bed seems huge as I stretch out until I hit the edge, realizing you weren’t there. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and survey my surroundings. My phone tells me it’s past 10 AM, way past the time my mind usually whirs to life and demands stimulation, and way before you’re usually alive to the world. A little concerned, I throw off the covers and swing my feet down to the cool hardwood floor. I shuffle down the hall, looking for you in the bathroom – not there – and the guest room – not there either – before heading downstairs. I call out your name expectantly; almost in response, there’s a loud clatter in the kitchen.

It takes me a few moments to process the mess that has developed in the kitchen. There’s egg shells everywhere, something’s burning in the toaster, bacon struggling to sizzle in a lukewarm frying pan, and an overturned box of bisquick next to the sink! I smile when I see you standing in the middle of it all, still in your pajamas, some egg in your hair, flour on your face. You rush over to me, tears streaming down your face, clearly frustrated overwhelmed by the task of cooking breakfast. I try to comfort you as you blurt out apologies through your tears. You had wanted to surprise me, you explain once you calm down some, but as these things often go, once one thing went wrong, it all did. Kissing you on the forehead, I lead you over to the sink to clean your face a bit. “How about I finish up here, and you go find something good to watch on TV?” I suggest. Instantly, your mood improves and you skip over to find the remote, forgetting all about the trials and tribulations of your unsupervised morning.

Before too long, the kitchen is clean and humming along once more. It’s not until the first batch of bacon and pancakes are done that I notice you’ve wandered off again, but I don’t have enough time to become exasperated when I hear you bounding down the stairs, blanket and teddy bear in hand. Oblivious to your surroundings, you run right by the plate I hold in my hand and plop down in front of the TV. “Princess…” I coax. Your head pops up over the couch. “Forget something?” Never one to let bacon lie, you scamper back over. Thanking me with a kiss on the cheek, I hand you an extra plate – for White Bear, I explain. I finish up in the kitchen before I grab our diaper bag, joining you on the floor with a plate of my own. With surprisingly little resistance, you let me change you before laying your head in my lap, tacitly agreeing with my plans for a very lazy day.