Its five o’clock on Sunday morning . It just finished raining and the aroma of granny’s cinnamon buns sneaks itself to my room… I love Sundays with gran gran and pap pap. Grandpa plays his best Sunday records . I watch how the two of them dance with each other. I say nothing because I enjoy seeing them look so youthful.
I make my way passed them and head to breakfast table and oh my goodness! The glorious feast that grandma’s set fit for the saints above. Everything about the breakfast table was heavenly from the stack of flapjacks on the right end of the table down to the plate of scrambled eggs on the left end . I pray to God to make my stomach bigger as dive into this glorious meal.
Grandpa comes in and lifts me up in the air and we dance around the kitchen .
‘Careful you two, you are going to knock down my bowl of grits.’,says granny. We giggle our way out to the strawberry garden.
After breakfast grandad and I go to uncle Bén’s for ice-cream and football before dinner with the family. Grandma warns us to be early this time , grandad gives her a reassuring smile and we head out.
We meet a few of grandad’s friends grandpa Robyn and granpa Lee, he’s Chinese . We get so carried away with the game that we almost forget dinner . Before we get home grandpa and I go to mr Dale’s sweets and treats shop. We get her a box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses.
‘I hope this works. ‘, says grandad
‘ it will it always does .’, I assure him.
We get home right on time for dinner but before we could dine we apologise to granny .
‘we are sorry .’ We say together and we tell her it will not happen again. She smiles at says,’that’s what you said last week ‘