When I was little, there were few mornings more exciting than Christmas. It would take me hours to fall asleep; I was either peeking out my bedroom door every 30 minutes to see if presents had arrived, or writing a last-minute note to Santa. And when I finally woke up the next morning (usually around 6 a.m.), I'd jump on my mom and dad's bed until they groggily rolled into the living room so I could gleefully tear open my gifts.
Now that I'm older, I don't attack my parents at the crack of dawn. But I still find a holiday morning no less exciting—not for the presents, but for the breakfast.
from Food52 https://ift.tt/2EtZ8yc
0 Comments