It took me 45 minutes to make toast this morning. Usually it takes five. The twins took a long time to decide what kind of jam they wanted - with or without bananas on top - and the first batch didn't pass the sniff test.
In five years I likely won't get as frustrated with them at breakfast time because I'll just point toward the kitchen and say, "The bread and toaster are in there. Jam is in the fridge. Pass me the remote, please. Cartoons are over." That's how they learn.
Anna just dropped her toast. Peanut butter, jam and banana side down.
I don't know if I'll last five years.
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