Millie rubs her still sleepy eyes to make sure that it’s her Dad in the kitchen and not her mom. It is, certainly, Daddy Mark wearing the apron and cutting, rather clumsily, what Millie catches to be hotdogs.
“Daddy?” she calls out, and Mark readily turns to her.
“Good morning, princess!” Mark greets with a sweet smile, and opens his arms for Millie to go into. After Millie securely wraps her arms on his neck, Mark lifts her and turns back to what he’s doing. “We’re making breakfast for Mommy.”
“Why?” Millie asks, knowing that Mommy is the one who makes the breakfast usually. Daddy is just supposed to wake up and kiss them, then eat the breakfast.
“Because Mommy can’t get out of the bed,” Mark vaguely explains, as another piece of hotdog flies out after he cuts it.
“Why can’t Mommy get out of the bed? Is she sick?”
Mark chuckles. Oh, Mommy is not sick, alright. “No. Mommy is just amazing, so she deserves to be taken care of like a queen.”
“But why can’t she get out of bed?”
Mark sighs at the hotdogs in front of him. Mommy had too much hotdog last night. He shakes his head. “Why don’t you help Daddy? We’re going to prepare toast, omelet, and hotdogs for Mommy.”
You hurry down at the sound of your daughter’s crying. You find Mark kissing her arm repeatedly. “What happened?”
“Mommy!” Millie cries, asking to be carried. You immediately hold her, looking at Mark accusingly. What did he do?
“I didn’t do anything. It’s the cooking oil. It attacked her,” he explains rather guiltily.
You shake your head and turn to Millie. “It’s okay, princess. We’ll put ice on it so it won’t hurt anymore.”
“I,” she sniffles, “I just want to help… in breakfast… because Mommy is… can’t get up.”
“Yes, baby, and you did really well. Thank you,” you wipe her tears with your thumbs. “It’s not your fault Daddy doesn’t know how to check if the pan is too hot and the cooking oil monster started attacking you.”
Millie nods. “Yes. And Daddy’s hotdogs were flying, and the eggs are not pretty.”
“Oh, is that so?” you coo and throw Mark a glare. This clutz shouldn’t step in the kitchen.
Mark pouts. He just wanted to bond with his daughter while making something for his wife. “Hey, my hotdog still makes Mommy happy at night. And also my eggs.”
“Yah!” you scold and give him an eye. Guess you have to make a proper breakfast before these two kids hurt themselves again.