The evening came. I called Roberta again, and this time she got up, all sleepy-eyed, and sat at the table. I was a bit proud of Sony's and my efforts, so I put a plate with the shepherd's pie and veges in front of her with a flourish.
- "This is very nice "breakfast food"! - she offered. Uh-oh...
- "What do you mean, Roberta?"
- "Oh, nothing. I see, you decided to make a change from my usual breakfast oatmeal..."
Mine and Sonny's jaws dropped. It took me a moment to realize, what was happening and be able to respond.
- "What time of the day, do you think, this is?" - I asked.
- "Why, isn't it the morning?"
- "Umm, no! Don't you remember, you already had your breakfast today. Look outside: its dark."
- "That doesn't mean anything. What time of the day is it?"
That happened before. My dad also used to get up from a nap or in the middle of the night and decide, it was the morning and the time to eat breakfast.
Today she came to the breakfast table wearing a defiant look on her face, just in case, if I was back to my "tricks".
- "Good morning, how are you, Roberta?"
- "I'm fine. And this is the morning?!"
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