Last night, I was finishing up a little bit of work on my computer while we watched TV. The Boy decided, after a long nap in the recliner, to go to sleep. My intention was to follow soon after but then I got distracted. Facebook made me stay up until almost 2 a.m.
As I was headed to bed, Oliver started up the breakfast dance. It was, after all, morning. Obi was willing to eat, too, if I was offering.
“Do you promise,” I asked, “to let us sleep in the morning if I feed you now?”
Yes. Yes, of course they promised.
But hours…maybe DAYS went by and the sun started coming close to thinking about coming up. Oliver needed breakfast. He told me about it. He told The Boy about it. He returned to my side of the bed and told me about it. Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfastbreakfastbreakfast. Breakfast.
“You promised you would let us sleep if I fed you, Oli.”
Breakfast. Breakfast breakfast.
Eventually, The Boy got up. I heard him tell Kitten Thunder that he knew they’d eaten. I did tell him that they could eat again before I nodded off.
Oliver came back a bit later and crawled into my arms. He had things to say, but eventually he went back to sleep.
Later, when I finally dragged myself from bed, I found out that The Boy did NOT feed Kitten Thunder when he got up. He said Oliver didn’t need to be rewarded for being a brat. And Obi had…other priorities. The lesson to be learned here is not to annoy the hand that feeds you until the truth comes out about your secret breakfast.
That, and don’t depend on your little brother who would rather have a belly rub than back you up.