As Mary had predicted, she needn’t have set the alarm the next morning as three little zombies came through to her room complaining of starving hunger, long before her watch started beeping.
She shoved the disgruntled boys out the room again to quickly get dressed and use the bathroom.
She found them sitting on the top step of the stairs waiting to go like something out of the sound of music.
The literature of the holiday had said that cook got up with the dawn so should have something ready for breakfast for when they awoke. It was 7am and cook was just arriving back from the boulangerie, arms laden with baguette.
The children hoisted themselves up on to the chairs surrounding the table, Mary helping James up. Plates were placed in front of them and a pile of fresh crêpes in the centre of the table. Surrounding the pile were jars and pots, jams, spreads, butter, sugar, cinnamon and a jug of orange juice.
Carefully following James’ instructions, Mary made his crêpe to his specifications and poured the juice.
She was just about to start on her own crêpe when she noticed Benedict methodically spooning the entire sugar jar on to his crepe.
“That’s enough Benny, stop with the sugar.” Said Mary, but he carried on. Mary reached over the table and removed the sugar from next to his plate. Benedict let out a disgruntled cry just as cook walked back in. Mary silently prayed that she would be backed up this time and thankfully she was, Benedict did receive a sharp word. He looked dejectedly at his pancake, reached for the cinnamon and then decided against any more flavouring and carefully rolled it into a tube and ate it with his hands like a giant, sugary cigar.
Once they had had their full of crepes and juice, Mary showed them upstairs again to clean teeth and get into the shorts and t-shirts for that day.