Imagine Fred and your daughter making you breakfast…

You’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you pad quietly down the stairs, Fred’s bright, oversized button up covering your body. You’d woken up alone this morning, your husbands side of the bed cold and empty and no four year old pressing her feet into the small of your back.

You can hear giggling from the kitchen, a smile spreading over your face as you peak around the corner, the strong, sweet smell of pancakes filling your nose. Your daughter Sophia is sitting on the counter, still in her pyjamas, swinging her legs back and forth as Fred flips a pancake on the stove. She laughs at something he says, her cheeks dotted with flour.

“What’s all this then?” You ask, stepping around the corner.
Sophia gasps when she sees you, shuffling to the edge of the counter excitedly. Fred drops her to the floor and she runs over to you, hugging you around the legs. You run your fingers through the wild mess of hair on top of her head.
“We made pancakes mummy!”
“I can see that,” You chuckle. “What’s the special occasion?”

Fred flips the last pancake onto the plate and turns off the stove, even more flour covering his cheeks then on Sophia. He walks towards you, picking Sophia up, swinging her onto his hip before leaning down and kissing your lips softly. Sophia giggles, burying her face into Fred’s neck.
“Just because we love you darling,” Fred says.

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