Pop Tarts For Breakfast

Pop Tart


As I chatted with The Wife yesterday morning before work, I was amused to discover that Bert and Nick* would be bringing Captain John Pop Tarts for breakfast. K got Pop Tarts for breakfast also. I wonder how many dad's got Pop Tarts for breakfast? For Mother's Day I got scrambled eggs, toast, a big bowl of cereal and milk, coffee and juice. I didn't eat it all, I let the Little People have the cereal. K got Pop Tarts still in their foil package, brought to him on a plate by an excited three year old who kept yelling from the kitchen that 'You got Pop Tarts!' despite being shushed and told it was a SECRET. I think he enjoyed his breakfast.

Due to the increased levels of stress in this household from K having lost his job last Thursday, K did not sleep in on Sunday and was up well before the Little People, effectively ruining my plan of having the offspring surprise him with breakfast in bed.

(Slight break in post - my oldest, the 6 year old who was just sent upstairs to dress after a bath, just came down the stairs looking more redneck and white trash than I believe I could have even planned for her to look. She's wearing a denim jumper with a white wife beaterish looking shirt underneath and the effect is completly distrubing and comical. Ahhh gotta love it when the redneck, white trash genetics rear their ugly head.)

Other than that, Father's Day was completly uneventful. I went to work, the Little People went with their father and Mr. B to church, later K called his father like a dutiful son and I like the neglegent daughter did not call my father as I could not bear to have a guilt trip from my dad. Yes, I am bad.

Well off to clean house, worry about finances, list stuff on e-bay, sew and extort money from weathly relatives (like I have any).

*Bert and Nick are CATS.