28/03/2025
The Midnight Milk Café
Jessica never thought she’d be running a 24/7 all-you-can-eat buffet, but here she was—CEO, executive chef, and sole employee of The Midnight Milk Café. The restaurant had exactly one very demanding customer: her six-month-old son, Max.
It was 2:47 AM, and just as she drifted into sleep, the customer placed his order. Again.
WAAAAAH!
Jessica groaned. “Sir, the kitchen is closed,” she mumbled, but Max was having none of it.
Half-asleep, she scooped him up and latched him on. He immediately settled, slurping loudly. Her husband, Dave, snored peacefully beside them, completely oblivious. She glared at him. How nice it must be to sleep through the demanding patrons of the b**b bar.
Just as she started dozing off, she felt it—a little hand reaching up and twiddling her other ni**le like he was searching for the radio station.
“Excuse me, sir,” she whispered. “This is a one tap establishment. The other side is closed for renovations.”
Max ignored her, increasing his grip like he was trying to tune into Breastfeeding FM: The Greatest Hits of Sleep Deprivation.
She sighed. “At least leave a tip.”
Max responded by unlatching, giving a sleepy, milky grin—then promptly spitting up down her shirt.
Tip received.
As she wiped herself off and tried to shift Max back to his crib, she caught her reflection in the mirror: wild hair, dark circles, one b**b still hanging out of her pajama top. She looked like she’d been through a battle.
Because she had.
And just as she laid Max down and tiptoed back to bed, she heard it:
WAAAAH!
The Midnight Milk Café never closed.