Cake

There once was a girl who married a boy named Peters. The girl used to sleep in on Saturdays with her sweetheart, the boy named Peters. They would enjoy their coffee and their relationship together on quiet, sophistocated mornings. The boy and the girl decided to have children. Their lives were changed vertically, horizontally, consumately, and irreversably. Forever.

Our heroine began finding herself fantasizing about sleep, clear eyes absent of bloodshot, and a single, miniscule moment of peace.

After jolting nights interrupted with brain-piercing wailing, she would awaken to a tiny two year old face watching her intently. The sweet little cherub two inches from her nose would demand (at six in the morning), "I want cake."
"Honey, we don't have any cake."
"I want pie."
"We don't have any pie, and even if we did, you can't have it for breakfast!"
"I want cookies."
Oh, it's hopeless. "How about Cocoa Puffs?"
The darling little angel turned his mouth upside down into a miniature pout. His expression said, "FINE. I suppose that will have to do."