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.

Last Updated on May 10, 2015 by Liza Hawkins