Mother’s Day Breakfast

Let’s take a second to set the stage. Mia is 10; Jack is 6.

Heard while sitting at my desk, within earshot of the kitchen: clanking of drawers and metal objects. Fridge door opens and closes. I hear an egg crack…

Mother’s Day Breakfast

M: “First you put a little bit of milk in the eggs – ONE tablespoon – then…”

J: “How do you tell which spoon is which?”

M: “Well, it’s written on the side. Plus, I just know. Okay. Grab a spoon and stir it until it’s lightish yellow.”

J: “THIS spoon?” (Giggles; obviously holding a gigantic spoon.)

M: “Um, no. Here. Shhhhhh – she can hear us!”

J: “Can I stir it on the floor? That counter’s a little high for me.”

M: “Uh…no, here.” (Hands him a stool.)

J: “Is this good?” (stir, stir, stir)

M: (Takes the spoon; stirs vigorously) “Okay, now we MICROWAVE.”

J: “Mommy also wants cereal?” (Sounds skeptical.)

M: “Yes. Eggs, toast, strawberries…and the cereal she asked for.”

J: (Inspects eggs) “The eggs aren’t hot, but the bowl is.”

M: “Hmmm. It’s okay. I’ll grab some salt. Here we go…. (sprinkle, sprinkle) Oopsie. Eh. It’ll be fine.”

Both kids walk gingerly into my office space, singing, holding a metal baking sheet piled with breakfast-y goodies: salty scrambled eggs, dry un-buttered toast, fresh strawberries, and cereal.

Happy Mother’s Day to yoooooooooooou. Happy Mother’s Day tooooooo youuuuuuuuuuu!

NOTE: When asked by my 10-year-old what I wanted for breakfast this morning (“Mom, it’s Mother’s Day – whatever YOU want”), I said:

“Just cereal would be great!”

But I’ll take this Mother’s Day breakfast, made without any arguments, and without my help, any day.