A weekend breakfast

When you crawled into bed beside me early this morning
you were about as surreptitious as a gigantic elephant
it made me laugh that you were so surprised when I woke up
to tickle you and make you squeal, hopping down again
I whisper, go and get your brother let's all have a play
since I'm awake anyway and it's just about getting light.

I can hear my brother-in-law snoring when the door opens
and two wide grins appear, and so a new day begins here
with laughter and hugs, squishing three to a single bed
which is perfectly possible as long as everyone holds on
or rather if I hold on to these two small squirming bodies
which is not that easy when we are all laughing like hyenas.

Tumbling onto the floor totally out of breath to be found
in a heap by a very sleepy and not overly pleased parent
so I make shame faced .. well kind of shame faced excuses
but my semi, not quite straight face is not to be trusted
to be fair poker is not my game and joy will not be held in
so I agree that we'll go downstairs now and play quietly.

So off we go down the stairs with much smothered giggling
when breakfast is suggested by hopeful young appetites
into the kitchen we stroll, shutting the door very softly
a quick look in the larder yields the makings of pancakes
with over an hour til "real" breakfast we have time to kill
and cooking really is just the perfect activity for three.

One person for reading from the Big Cook Little Cook book
one person getting stuff out and measuring to instructions
and one mixing and stirring, making a humongous big mess
which we will have to clear up before the grown ups appear
oh, and I'm in charge of removing egg shell fragments too
that takes a special skill only given to those over the hill.

Then there's heating until smoking and flipping which I do
aided and abetted by a lively cheering, clearing up squad
who do far more cheering than clearing up, which is fair
as it's another thing specifically suited to my set of skills
once the pile of pancakes are safely stacked in the microwave
when we've de-floured, de-egged, de-milkified the cheery boys.

A thumping can then be heard overhead so number two dashes up
taking orders for tea in bed, the clearing up isn't done yet
a massive amount of headless chicken-like rushing about ensues
with flour being suddenly accidentally tipped over everywhere
queue mum coming to have a quiet word about quietening down
I can't hear you I yell as we pale ghosts fall about laughing.