his-andor-hers After situating Jack into his high chair, Church turns off the stove, moving the last few pancakes onto the plate. He counts them, furrowing his eyebrows, then sighs. How the hell did he make twenty-seven pancakes and not realize it until just now? Once again, his eyes were bigger than his stomach. Maybe he should call Caboose. He'll do the clean up for him. "I'm gonna go wake up your mom," he tells his daughter, placing the pancakes on the table next to the plate of bacon and the bowl of eggs. Christ, why does his wife continue to trust him with portion control? He makes eye contact with her and points to Jack, telling her sternly, "Keep an eye on him, and don't take any more than two of anything. Got it?" Church walks out of the kitchen and heads up the stairs, his steps getting quieter as he nears the master bedroom. Opening the door almost silently, he moves over to her side of the bed, sitting next to her carefully. "Hey," he whispers, leaning down and kissing the bridge of her nose. "C'mon, get up. I have coffee and breakfast ready downstairs."