Thursday, December 22, 2011

December 22nd - Part One

I have two stories to tell this morning:


My four year old jumps on my bed... the first of my children up and the boy that bursts constantly with joy was wanting breakfast.

"Can I make it, Mom?"

We are out of cereal -- as I only buy a few boxes a month strictly for those mornings when making a real (aka: nutritious) breakfast is impossible -- and that is usually the breakfast that he makes himself.

The other children begin stirring and my oldest boy wants to make it, too.  (He's already better at fried eggs than I am!)  So I tell boy 1 and boy 2 that they can make scrambled eggs and toast.  They ask me about every step along the way and it sounds like all is going well in the kitchen.

Enjoying my morning "off", I begin to smell something that isn't the fragrant aroma of gently cooking eggs... I jump up and run to the kitchen just in time stop our eggs from being cooked in blackened butter.  Literally.  He had the bowl of beaten eggs in his grip, readying the bowl to be pour over the pan...  Both looking at me like, "What?  Is something wrong?"

I'm laughing out loud now... but at the time, I pulled the plug on them chefing their own breakfast this morning quicker than a... <I am woefully unable to complete this sentance with anything resembling "wit". If you know of a good "quicker than a..." phrase, please let me share in your wisdom via the comments below!>  Anyway, it was fast!  He's great with a griddle... maybe a few lessons on the stovetop are in order.

We got our breakfast in record time and how could any of us help but smile...

Our tummies were full and our hearts were happy.

Most of all?  Mine. 

1 comment:

  1. Today is July 26, 2014, and I just now read this for the first time. It makes me miss you more.

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