Bare feet padded down the hall to the second door on the left in the two bedroom condo on a Saturday morning. The chill of November didn't bother its inhabitants with the comfort of heat warming the home generously. Small hands carried two blue plastic bowls as if she were balancing fine china with two spoons teetering inside. When Cadence got to the door she sat the bowl with the other treasure she collected to make her mother's breakfast. Checking each item off in her mental checklist she dragged the milk, she carried the two bowls, she commandeered two different types of cereal from the cabinet via a stool, she had two spoons. She still felt like something was missing, but for now she was satisfied with what she had.

Opening the door to a crack she peaked in happy to see her mothers were still sleeping heaps in the bed. Usually one of them was up by now on the weekdays to get her ready for school, but she felt like surprising both of them with breakfast. Getting on her knees in her Dora the Explorer pajama pants the little girl with skin that would be fair if not for a subtle hint of color first separated the bowls and poured generous amounts of cereal in each bowl. That was the easy part. Now, she needed to pour the milk which was probably the hardest task since it was a new jug. She picked it up by the handle supporting it from the bottom with her other hand. She tipped it gently and slowly feeling her muscles shake at the strain of trying to keep the jug under control. Frowning in concentration she poured slowly proud of her progress as she saw the milk being saturated by a white blanket. With cereal floating and moving to the sway of the recently poured milk she guided the milk jug over to the second bowl of cereal that took a more colorful direction.

Completely startled when her mother's door opened the slight angle began a dramatic dip and the milk ended up soaking the floor, her knees, and splattered on the feet and legs of the woman everyone said she looked most like.

"Oops," Cadence winced holding a now mostly empty jug of milk.

Pam surprised by her daughter and the uncomfortable feel of milk on her body crouched down with a curved brow, "good morning to you to."

A rush of words came together in her defense and tears brimmed with pouting full lips that Pam pressed her fingers to as she shushed her daughter.

"Shhh…you're going to wake your mother," she whispered. Instructing her to get a large rag from under the kitchen sink she collected the bowls, boxes, and spoons while her daughter easily carried the almost empty jug in search of a rag.

Turning at her waist Pam made sure Tara was still sleeping and she wasn't disappointed to find the woman was dead to the world, thankfully. She had a long week at work and Pam like her daughter it seemed had the same thing in mind, breakfast in bed. Unfortunately, her daughter beat her to it.

"I found it," a rag was pushed into her stomach.

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

Pam cleaned up the mess inwardly congratulating herself on her adamancy for wood floors. When she was done and the heavy towel soaked with milk was thrown away and the spot was cleaned again with a Lysol wipe and a dry towel she washed her hands and recruited her daughter to cook a real breakfast in bed.

"Ma, who taught you how to cook?" her daughter asked as she saw her mother cracking eggs in a bowl. When she washed her hands she was given the job to take the jelly out of the fridge and procure a kiwi and two oranges.

"My mom."

"Who taught her how to cook?"

Pam smiled stirring the eggs together for scrambled eggs, "her mother."

The girl sat on the stool holding her fruit still so it wouldn't roll off the countertop. "You gonna teach me how to cook?"

"If you want to learn," she answered patiently.

"I want to," the girl said eagerly her smile deflating a little, "but…"

Pam paused at the open refrigerator glad she had had the forethought to leave the turkey bacon in the fridge with the idea for breakfast in bed nagging at her just before she went to bed last night.

"But what baby?"

Cadence bit the side of her lip self consciously, "people say I look more like you, but I act more like mama."

Pam curious as to where this line of questioning came from turned the oven for the biscuits and checked the butter in her pans to make sure they were melting. Turning her attention on her daughter because she knew the child wouldn't finish until she had her undivided attention—she liked to be looked at as if it told her the person she was talking to was listening to her.

"Well, you banned mama from the kitchen 'cause she burned water that one time….what are you going to do if I burned water?"

Holding in her amusement Pam turned her back on her daughter long enough to put the biscuits in and check the butter again and take another pan out for the bacon she also placed in the oven.

"My love, there's still hope for you, but your mama's been on this earth for thirty something years and she's still hopeless in the kitchen."

This made her daughter giggle.

"So I can become a master chef?"

"You can become anything you want to be," the words fell out of her mouth before she could censor the hallmark card answer. Although the smile that greeted her was well worth the sting of having uttered the cliché in the first place. It amazed her how fitting they were during these bonding moments with her daughter.

They cooked or rather Pam showed her daughter how to cook and explained the do's and don'ts in the kitchen while food cooked. Sharing little details like all the food can be served hot if the longest food to cook is started first and the quickest food is cooked last. The girl nodded and questioned and then nodded again and it became a dance between mother and daughter in the kitchen. For Pam it was especially nice to give her daughter something other than fabulous genes because Cadence did take after Tara more than she did her. She wondered if it had anything to do with Tara being posted up near her stomach during her pregnancy whispering stories and telling secrets and caressing Pam's stomach like it was the baby's own skin. For whatever reason they'd bonded quickly and she didn't mind mostly she adored watching her favorite girls in action—however moments like these were precious as well if not more.

"Can I do it?" her daughter asked her side looking expectantly at the oranges her mother had cut and now were arranging on the plate.

She stopped herself from picking her daughter up knowing that the girl was in her independent phase. She pulled a stool to her and climbed atop it reaching for the towel to wipe her hands then she began arranging the fruit into the most adorable smile Pam had ever had the pleasure of chuckling at.

Cadence examining her work was well aware of her smiling mother behind her and asked, "you think she'll like it?"

Pursing her lips as if she were giving this some serious thought, the blond finally answered, "I think she will."

Pam grabbed the wooden tray for the plate and the glasses while her daughter carried a tightly shut jug of orange juice after she explained it wouldn't be opened until they got to the bed. Cadence agreed wholeheartedly and followed her mother mimicking her careful steps down the hall to the bedroom.

"You're not supposed to be up!" Cadence yelled speeding by Pam and jumping on the bed when she saw her dark skinned mother sitting up against the pillows, "why are you awake?"

"Cause I smelled something delicious."

"What'd you smell?"

"I smelled Cadence and I'm going to eat her."

"Don't eat me!" the girl make a half hearted attempt to escape her mother's clutches, "we made breakfast."

"I thought I was eating breakfast," she stopped pretending to chew on her daughter's arm.

"Nooo," the girl laughed pointing to Pam who now used to the horse playing didn't worry as much when Cadence jumped at her mother and they began to wrestle playfully. "That's breakfast, eggs, bacon and biscuits," she explained slowly.

"You're not breakfast?" Tara asked confusion written on her face.

The girl shook her head rolling down her sleeve to her top matching her Dora the Explorer pants.

"Oh," she pushed the girl away looking expectantly at her wife who finally came forward sitting the tray down when she gave her daughter a warning look that there would be no playing on the bed with a tray of food on it. These were her favorite sheets.