I woke up this morning, my nose attuned to the sweet smell of syrup in my bedroom. Monkey Man and hubby served me breakfast in bed with pancakes, syrup, and tea on Mother's Day, but I was a little bewildered that the room still smelled like syrup. It's a warm, homey, yummy smell, but two days later, still, the syrup?
After I got out of bed, I reached up to the alarm clock that sits on top of hubby's tall dresser. As I switched the radio alarm off, I realized just why the room has smelled like syrup since 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning. There upon the dresser taller than I sat a plastic Superman plate of syrup from when Monkey Man joined me on the bed Sunday morning to eat his pancakes. I guess Hubby stuck it up there after Monkey Man finished and forgot about it. And since the Cleaning Fairy took the day off, she never bothered to look on top of the dresser, taller than I, to check for leftover food from the day.