Birthday Breakfast

Last week I mentioned that my husband bought me a camera for my birthday.

He also brought me breakfast in bed, too.



For the first time... ever.

 

Early, reeeeally early, that morning, around 10 am, my husband was startled out of slumber by yours truly.

"I'm hungry," I announced. I had already made up my mind that I wasn't cooking.

Because it was my birthday, duh. 

He groaned and pulled covers over his head.

"But, its my birthday!" I wined.
 Which did absolutely no good. 

Later that day, he did however  run to my favorite local donut shop (seconds before closing) to retrieve my birthday... eh, brunch? No wait- what do you call breakfast that comes after lunch, but before dinner?

Anyway, a few minutes later he returned with my favorite breakfast, a kolache and donut holes.


Let me a paint you a mental picture of what my husband handed me-


 My already made plate consisted of one jumbo kolache and two carefully ...and very inappropriately placed donut holes.
That he thought it was waaaaaaaay funnier than it actually was.
I'll let you take a minute to get that mental picture...



I'll go ahead and apologize now.



I am sorry you can never look at donuts and kolaches the same way.
 If it makes you feel better, neither can I. And I haven't ate their since.

"Happy birthday!" he laughed.



Hysterically.




"You are so immature," I sighed.
 "Wishful thinking, huh?"




"What?" he asked, confused.




"I don't know why you bought a jumbo.... were they out of smalls?"