Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, CREAK... I hear the familiar sounds from upstairs. Pound, Pound, Pound... the pace quickens, the pounding becomes louder, quicker and closer. The noise almost echoes down the empty stairs. I see the familiar blond saunter into the kitchen, where I am having my mid-morning cup of tea.
"Hey, How are you? Did you sleep ok?" I ask.
"UH, Yea...." the yella headed boy mumbles tiredly.
"Can I make you some eggs? Oatmeal? Toast?" I eagerly ask as I begin to rise from my counter height bar stool.
"MOM...I just got up. I am not hungry yet... " as he puts in his ever-present headphones.
I sit back down and wait the 10 seconds or so before the very typical conversations starts....
"Mom, I am hungry. What is for breakfast? Do we have any bagels? Cream Cheese?" the teenager asks as he rummages through the pantry, the fridge and looks at me expectantly as if I should have already made his breakfast.
"Dude, I just asked you what you wanted. But yes, we have all of those things." I reply with just a hint of exasperation.
"You did?" he asks in amazement. I don't believe that he heard anything that I have been saying. "I think I will have a bagel....and some strawberries." "Maybe, a cheese stick too. Do we have any sausage?" He continues his rummaging.
"Yes to everything! Can you make it or do you want me to do it?" I ask as I begin to put the bagel in the toaster and start to cut the strawberries up.
"Uh, oh thanks... you will do it?" he replies with the smile that melts my heart.
Once my baby, always my baby. My favorite sixteen-year-old sits down at the counter and waits for his bagel while jamming strawberries in his mouth. The day has officially begun.