What my otherwise clever brain failed to realize while perusing and obsessing over the thousands of play kitchens I googled was that they don't come assembled.
So I'm laying there, examining his face by the early morning light, overcome by love and all the sappy motherly emotions you hope could last all day. Then he wakes up and gives me the cutest smiles and sweetest hugs, I feel so blessed and I realize, this tiny human being, this is my gift. Every year, him and his brother are my anniversary gifts, and I love and cherish them so much I wouldn't trade them for the world. Then, in his loving play, he whacks me in the eye and I think, maybe I should have saved the receipt, hrmpff