A couple of weekends ago it was my birthday and the kids wanted to do a breakfast for me. I was excited to be able to sleep in and the kids were thrilled to be in charge of the meal. Early on the morning of my big day (unfortunately “big” here refers to the number on my cake) the kids snuck into our room and urged Mark out of bed to help.

Thirty minutes later Noah, my 9-year-old, entered our bedroom carrying a cup of coffee, oblivious to the thin streams that were actively dripping down the side of the cup.  Yes – time for leisure reading with a cup of java. He smiled in triumphant of his accomplishment as handed me the cup of coffee. He proudly told me the menu - hot, gluten-free biscuits, eggs and bacon and then ran back downstairs to rejoin the others.

Another fifteen minutes passed and Anastasia, who had turned 8 the day before, scurried into the room, “I made the biscuits all by myself but the recipe only made three biscuits for some reason - weird, huh! So I’m making more.