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"Mom cooked pancakes?" My eyes are wide.

He nods. Slowly. "And there's bacon too."

"You cooked bacon?"

He nods. Slowly again.

"She mad?"

"Oh yah. She's fuming. Worth it though!"

I nod in agreement. Sigh, looking down at the floor. "FIne. Hunger strike's off for one day."

He rolls his eyes, which I ignore as I crawl to my feet, and meander, with zombie-like form toward my bathroom, at the far corner of my gigantic stuffed animal strewn pink prison.

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