This morning, Jake left to work very early. I'm not a great wife, so I didn't get up with him and fix him a big breakfast like I usually do. (Yeah, right. The are packets of oatmeal in the pantry, help yourself!) I woke to the sound of Brooklyn and Ty creeping downstairs. The overcast day had me feeling particularly lazy, and I'm by nature not great in the morning, so I decided to wait it out. As quiet as they were being, I knew they were amid a great project. I could hear bits and pieces, and figured out that they were downstairs getting themselves breakfast. I relished in listening to them accomplish a big task together, and didn't go down for a few minutes. I was honestly surprised that they had done fairly well. Both had cereal. No milk was spilled. Brooklyn had also gotten into the freezer and toasted some waffles. She had carefully and lovingly cut Ty's for him and gave him syrup. I have to admit, I expected the worst...cereal all over the floor, milk spilled down the heater vents (again, it's been done!) and sticky syrup all over. The only major mess was Ty's cereal bowl (it was serious kinds of overfull) and that the kids had found some Gatorade mix and tried to make themselves some. The cups were half concentrate and half water, and hadn't been touched. So yucky. I love babies, I love everything about them. But, I am also loving my kids growing up and gaining some independence. It's amazing. It's serious seperation anxiety for me if I dwell on it too much, but it's wonderful! Now, if I can just help them learn to get Sadie out of bed without serious injury...I'd be able to sleep in every morning, right? Maybe they would have MY breakfast too, just waiting.