Every morning at precisely 7:00 a.m., the soft chime of the little blue alarm clock echoed across Lala’s cozy room. The sun would barely be peeking through the curtains, casting golden streaks over her tidy desk and bookshelf lined with storybooks, art supplies, and a few stuffed animals. But even before the sun was fully awake, Lala was.
Unlike most children her age, Lala didn’t moan or groan when it was time to get out of bed. She didn’t pull the blankets over her head or beg for “five more minutes.” Lala had a special reason to start her day early: she loved breakfast, and she knew that taking her medicine on time was important for her health.
You see, Lala had a mild medical condition that required her to take medication every morning. It wasn’t a scary thing, and it didn’t stop her from playing, learning, or dreaming big. But it did mean that she needed to be responsible. So, with the help of her parents, Lala had built a simple, beautiful habit that brought her joy: every morning, right after brushing her teeth and washing her face, she would sit at the kitchen table, smile, and say, “It’s breakfast and medicine time!”
Her breakfast was always something special. Sometimes it was a bowl of warm oatmeal with honey and banana slices. Other days, her mother made sunny-side-up eggs with toast cut into heart shapes. On weekends, her father liked to make pancakes with strawberries and a tiny swirl of whipped cream on top. No matter the meal, Lala always took a moment to admire it. She would close her eyes, breathe in the smell of fresh food, and say, “Thank you, breakfast!”
Then came her medicine. It was a small pink tablet that she took with a glass of water. Lala didn’t dread it—she understood that it was just part of her morning routine, just like brushing her teeth or combing her hair. “This keeps me strong,” she would say with confidence, holding the cup of water like a little champion.
Her parents were very proud of her. “Lala,” her mother often said, “you’re like the sun—you rise every morning with joy and discipline.” Her father would nod and add, “One day, you’ll inspire others with your good habits.”
And in many ways, Lala already did.
At school, her teacher, Miss Nara, noticed how focused and cheerful Lala was every morning. “You’re always ready to learn,” she once said. “What’s your secret?” Lala just smiled and replied, “I eat a good breakfast and take my medicine on time!”
Soon, her classmates grew curious. “What do you eat for breakfast?” asked Jin, a boy who often forgot to eat in the mornings. “Do you really take medicine every day?” asked Lily, who didn’t like the taste of cough syrup.
Lala nodded. “Yes, I do. I make it fun. You can too! You just need a routine.”
That word—routine—became magical in their classroom. Miss Nara even started a Morning Habits Chart, where students could put a sticker if they ate breakfast, brushed their teeth, or helped their parents in the morning. Lala’s row was always full of stars.
But what made Lala’s mornings truly special was the peace they brought. While the world rushed outside—cars honking, clocks ticking, people hurrying—Lala’s mornings were calm and joyful. She had created a little space where she could be mindful and thankful.
Sometimes, she would even talk to her cat, Momo, during breakfast. “Momo,” she’d say, as the cat purred beside her, “this toast is crispy today! And I feel strong already!” Momo didn’t answer, of course, but she blinked slowly, as if she understood.
There were days when things didn’t go perfectly. One morning, it rained heavily, and the power went out. Lala’s alarm didn’t ring. But even in the dark, Lala woke up naturally, as if her body knew it was time. She tiptoed to the kitchen and found a flashlight. Her mom helped her prepare a simple meal—bread with peanut butter and some warm milk on the gas stove. Lala took her medicine by candlelight and whispered, “Even rainy days are nice if you start them right.”
Her consistency became a comfort not just to herself, but to others around her. Her grandma, who came to visit one winter, smiled warmly after watching Lala’s routine. “You’re teaching me to enjoy my mornings again,” she said. “I forgot how nice it is to start slow and grateful.”
Lala beamed. “It’s never too late to have a good morning.”
As she grew older, Lala kept the habit alive. In middle school, she prepared her own breakfast—yogurt with granola, a boiled egg, and a sliced apple. She set reminders on her phone for her medicine, and still whispered thank-yous before eating. In high school, even with tougher schedules and early classes, she woke up early, never skipping the most important part of her day.
Years later, Lala became a children’s author. Her first book was called “Good Morning, Me!” It was about a little girl who learned to care for herself through morning rituals—just like Lala had. She visited schools, libraries, and hospitals, talking to kids about starting the day with kindness, breakfast, and healthy choices.
One little girl at a hospital reading raised her hand and asked, “Do you still take medicine every day?”
Lala smiled gently and said, “Yes, I do. And I still love breakfast. Starting your morning with care helps you face any kind of day.”
And so, from her small kitchen table to the pages of her books, Lala’s simple habit became something much bigger. It became a message, a practice, and a gift she shared with the world.
All because Lala made one decision: to enjoy her breakfast and take her medicine on time every morning.
