And I looked at Dad for some answers because I just couldn't believe Chuck was in my chair with my bib on.
Then I went for some of my food and it was gone... someone had been eating my porridge. And honestly, I don't think I just spelled porridge correctly. That is a word that you only hear when someone is telling that story about the family of bears eating that poor little girl's porridge. So when I went to write it, I just had no idea how to spell it. I could've gone to Google or dictionary.com but in all honesty I figured this is probably the only time in my entire life that I'll write the word porridge so I'm just gonna spell it like I did.Back to the story. I decided to talk to Chuck about the fact that he had eaten my porr... breakfast. We discussed the fact that breakfast is my favorite meal of the day and it's when Dad and I get to hang out uninterrupted for a good 45 minutes or so. So I asked him to please never eat my breakfast again.
And not only did he say okay, but he said he would cook me pancakes, which I love, and that made me quite happy.
