This morning I woke up to the sound of squeaks from the bassinets in our bedroom.

The twin babes were ready for their breakfast.

My life partner changed their diapers, and I pumped breast milk. Then we each fed one of them.

Afterward, we attempted to lay them back down to sleep, but they assured us they were having none of that, as they loudly called out to one another. It was positively adorable.

I brought our sweet daughters to the living room to play and kissed my dear husband on the head and said, “Sleep in as long as you need to.” Something we often do for each other. These are the moments in a marriage that make you realize what an incredible team you really are.

As I sit here to write, I have a plate of scrambled eggs and coffee that are just right. I have the pleasure of enjoying them while the morning sun makes its grand entrance across the bay windows.

Every now and again, I crave eggs the way my mother used to make them (she still does make them, I just get to enjoy them much less frequently). These same scrambled eggs that my nephew once asked, “Gamma, why you put too much milk in your scammbled eggs?” Much too young to derive such information firsthand, we all looked at my sister, who wore a guilty expression, and laughed. How strange it is, as it is with so many things—what might be an error to some is another’s favorite thing (or ultimately a huge benefit to society).

So, here I am, babies settling in for a morning nap, eating my scrambled eggs with “too much milk,” enjoying my coffee with a heaping scoop of honey and enough cream to make it pale brown and just shy of lukewarm, thinking everything is right with the world.

The coffee and eggs have me thinking about all these things that get people so riled up these days—religion, politics, race, gender, sex, sexuality—the same old hot buttons since the dawn of man.

These “issues” are much like the eggs.

There’s this breakdown where people think they need to force-feed their favorite eggs to everyone else, instead of saying, “Hey, that’s pretty cool that you like your eggs that way, this is how I like mine. Why do you like your eggs that way?”

And this is where the really interesting thing happens: when they tell you why they like their eggs a certain way, they will tell you a reason that’s all their own that is exactly the same as everyone else’s. They’ll tell you about taste, texture, color or maybe that they don’t like eggs at all! And at no point will you feel threatened or personally affronted by it.

The caveat is when you try to force your favorite eggs on someone who a) is allergic to eggs, or b) does not like eggs, or c) does not like eggs that way, or d) does not feel like having eggs right now, not only is this totally inappropriate, but it is potentially life-threatening. Just because eggs are great for you personally does not make them great for everyone. Imagine if we only made room for boiled eggs and everybody had to eat boiled eggs, every day, regardless of their preference or physical ability. That sounds insane, and no one would stand for it.

Perhaps, we could do this with all of our non-egg related beliefs and preferences too. Of course, I’m not saying anything new, just maybe in a slightly different way.

I really do enjoy my overly sweet, cold coffee, and my too-much-milk scrambled eggs.