Most mornings follow a predictable pattern:
1. Liam gets up (6:15-6:30)
2. Liam walks into our room, goes to Suzanne’s side of the bed.
3. Asks, “Mom, can I watch TV?”
4. Response: “Go to the bathroom and then you can watch TV.”
5. Liam heads downstairs, does his bathroom business, turns on the TV.
Nearly every day is like this. Exceptions occur rarely, and mostly because something else is going on–like we need to go somewhere and we’re up earlier than usual. But, again, this doesn’t happen often.
Today should have been like any other day.
For some reason, today was different.
I was lying awake in bed when Liam got up, and he didn’t come into our room. Not typical. Instead, he was poised at the top of the stairs. He appeared to be thinking about what to do next.
“What are you doing, Bud?” I ask.
He walks into the room, over to my side of the bed.
“Dad, can we eat breakfast together, you and me?”
I’m groggy, puzzled. “Why do you want to do that?”
“‘Cause sometimes we do that. Can we, Dad?”
What am I going to say? No?
“Sure, Bud. We’ll have breakfast together. You and me.”