“Uhh, can you…” I need an excuse to get him out of the room without hurting his feelings or getting his brilliant brain to question why Leo and I are naked in bed. “Go put on your favorite TV show. I’ll be right out, and we can make breakfast together, yeah?”
“Okay! That's why I wanted to wake you up! You said we could cook together!”
“I remember, little bird.” The nickname that Leo gave him is perfect and has started to stick with me.
She’s my pretty bird; he’s my little bird.
He dashes out of our room, and I get up, a slight groan coming from Leo as I brush her curls from her face and kiss her cheek.
“Come find me in the kitchen, pretty bird. I’ll be waiting,” I whisper, not sure she even heard me.
When I make it out to the kitchen, Rune has pulled up a chair to the counter and has eggs, bread, and ketchup pulled out.
“Okay, first lesson, young one. Ketchup does not belong on anything that isn’t a burger, a hot dog, or fries.”
“Uh, you are actually wrong, Dad. It belongs oneverything!” He raises his hands over his head in excitement, and I shake my head.
“Okay, you psychopath. But this morning we are making mommy’s favorite, eggs benedict. And it most definitely doesn’t belong on that.”
I pull all the ingredients down and ask my Alexa to play classic rock so we can jam out to Nirvana and Guns N’ Roses, amongst the other greats that Leo and I used to listen to.
I begin teaching Rune to make Leo’s favorite, having him help where he can but also making sure it still comes out edible.
The one thing I have learned during this lesson is that it takes considerably more time to cook with a seven-year-old. Between having to explain things, having to re-do some things, and the occasional rock ‘n’ roll air guitar breaks, we eventually plate our perfect eggs benedict.
“Well, bud, we might have to put it aside for now and warm it up when your mom wakes.”
Rune just shakes his head. “Now it’s my turn to teach you something. Watch this.”
The little genius goes to the coffeepot, places a K-Cup into the single-cup coffeemaker, and presses Brew.
I stare at him, confused.
He crosses his arms, very proud that he knows something I don’t. “Just wait.”
And as soon as the coffee is done, the aroma filling the air, our bedroom door opens.
A groggy, messy-haired Leo drags her feet and rubs at her eyes, yawning and staring at us with one eye open.
“Coffee always wakes the sleepy mommy monster.”
I raise my eyebrow at him and give him a nod that says I am highly impressed.
“Good morning, my beautiful mommy monster.” I go to her and wrap my arms around her waist then go to kiss her, but she pushes me away.
“Don’t touch me or talk to me till I have my first sip of coffee.”
Rune stands next to me and pats as high on my back as he can reach, which is my lower back, and says, “That's why I call hermommy monster in the mornings. Trust me, Dad. You’re going to want to let her get about halfway through that cup before you try to talk to her.”
“Well, how do you get away with it? You told me she pulls you into bed for morning snuggles and tickle fights. I wantthatmommy.”
Rune just giggles. “If you want that one, you have to let her stay in bed and bring coffee to her.”
“You are wise, young one.”
He just shrugs, walks away casually, and says with more confidence than a seven-year-old should have, “I know.”
As we eat our eggs benedict and Leo makes delicious moans that have my dick hardening, requiring me to adjust multiple times, a knock sounds on the door.
