(Because I need to write something even remotely interesting and artistique (or something) in here this weekend...)

When I was very little, I was known as the "Early Bird" (my best friend of the time being the "Night Owl", as we were opposite in all things). I would wake up and toddle (that's why they're called toddlers, after all) out to him as he ate his breakfast and read one of his shipping magazines. And I would hop up into his lap and eat half his cereal. One spoonful for me, two for him. He ate cornflakes, out of a big bowl - a fruit bowl - and he used to chop up a banana to put on top. Some days I wouldn't wake up in time, and when I came out he would be finished. Then he had to eat another bowl, just for me, and he would be full, and running late for work. But he always did it, because he was the most wonderful father in the world.

He's retired now, and no longer goes to work at 7am. He eats his cornflakes with muesli now, because health (and my mother) is catching up with him. I eat cornflakes too, after going through a rice bubbles phase, and a weetbix stage. I'm too big to fit in his lap now, and I rarely get up before seven. He's still the most wonderful father in the world, and I would do anything for him, just because he asked.