What is Lily doing downstairs? All this clunking and clattering going on. I'm trying to sleep!
The latch to my bedroom door is lifting. Is she ill? I blink and raise my head to see over the duvet. She enters, brandishing a plate with a boiled egg and a toasted English muffin slathered in Marmite. Bloody Mother's Day!
'Darling, do you know what time it is?'
'No!' she grins.
'Why didn't you look at your watch? It's really early. It's very kind of you, but I really don't want breakfast now. You have it.'
'OK!' she says cheerily and goes out again.
Serve me right for asking her last night if she remembered what day it was tomorrow, and telling her how some daughters made their mothers cards and breakfast in bed.