My son and I have a morning "breakfast" ritual my husband dubbed "the breakfast club" (though I'm not sure whether he had the 1980s John Hughes "brat pack" movie classic in mind when he did). We sit together at the kitchen table and have oatmeal, though ever since he saw Oliver Twist, my son insists on calling it "porridge." He finds it reassuring to know that if he wants "more," he can have it. As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, I make the oatmeal with nutritional yeast, ground flax, cinnamon, and applesauce.
Even in the summer, when he could at least in theory sleep all day, my son wanted me to wake him up when I got up for work, lest he miss breakfast club.