the breakfast saint

Weighing in at 39 pounds in his size 4T pants, little two-year-old CJ loves his food.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between - he loves them all.
When his fist is crammed full with something delicious.... he is his happiest self.

Despite the constant stream of food entering his mouth, CJ has been experiencing a little breakfast anxiety.
The sun may rise each and every day.... but will there be food to eat?
To which the answer (thanks to our endless supply of cereal and frozen bread in the freezer) is always "Yes."

Yes.
There will be breakfast tomorrow.
I promise.

Reassurance is needed before he climbs into his bed each and every night.
He needs (not wants) to see his green cereal bowl waiting for him at the kitchen table.
In his favorite breakfast spot with his chair waiting. 

"Wake up... eat breakfast?"
He asks over and over and over again.
Yes child, I will feed you when you wake up... just like I do each and every morning.

Breakfast confidence has yet to appear.
His pleads for breakfast now occur each and every night with the Lord during his nightly prayer.
He wants his breakfast and he wants it blessed and he wants it right now.

CJ is the true breakfast saint.
Nightly developing his faith in shiny bowls of grapenut joy.
His faith has been tried and tested.

I am so proud.


{this post was interrupted multiple times with little knocks on my door and an anxious heart.
"wake up... eat breakfast?"  Yes.  Yes we will.}