One of the morning rituals when I would stay the night with Grandmommy and Grandad was getting up to help make breakfast. Grandmommy and I would cook different things, but there always seemed to be BACON. (This ritual might be why my favorite food is bacon.) It was not unusual for us to cook the entire one pound pack of bacon because I would eat most of it for breakfast myself.
When there were only a couple strips of bacon remaining (reserved for Grandad), I would always ask Grandad if I could have his. Often he was sleeping-in during these mornings, so I would rush to their bed and try to wake him so I could ask if I could steal his bacon. This is where Grandmommy would partake in my mischief because she would egg-me-on and suggest I wake Grandad by tickling his feet. WHAT TORTURE. After he was awake via tickle torture, he would still let me have his bacon. What a way to award the ornery kid of the house?!?
It is strange how these moments connect all of us together. Since Grandmommy facilitated this mischief with Grandad through me, it really speaks to how much they must have loved one another. (Especially Grandpa who woke to unpleasant circumstances and lovingly surrendered his bacon each morning I stayed the night.)
