“Good morning,” I said to Josiah as he stumbled into the kitchen, sleep lines etched across his face. “Would you like me to make you some eggs?”

“No,” he yawned. “I’m going to have nachos.”

“Didn’t you eat nachos before you went to bed last night,” I asked.

“Yes, but I’m going to have breakfast nachos now.”

“Oh. How do you make those? With scrambled eggs and bacon?”

“No. I make them just like normal,” he said.

“So what makes them breakfast nachos?”

“They are nachos, and I eat them at breakfast time,” he explained.

And now I know how that is done.

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