Pickles For Mother's Day

This morning I woke to the sound of dishes being pulled from cabinets and the refrigerator door being opened repeatedly. I stumbled into the kitchen and found Analiese trying to cut up an apple with a plastic knife. She told me that she was making breakfast since it was almost Mother's Day. When I looked back at the table I saw that it had been set with plates and forks. She had made toast and gotten out jelly and apple butter. Not being allowed to use a real knife had made slicing an apple nearly impossible, so she had gotten out applesauce as a substitute. Then to round out this little child-made breakfast she had added pickles and cubes of cheddar cheese. No one else was up, so I sat down with her and had toast with pickles and cheese. I told her that it was the best breakfast ever, thank you. Then we both went back to bed and I tried to tell my stomach to appreciate the pickles, which it in turn told me it did not. But how could I not eat something so lovingly prepared. My sweet daughter. The early riser with grand ideas and an equally grand heart.