Read. The. Label.
The whip-whip-whip of pancake batter.
The sizzle-pop-sizzle of thick-cut maple bacon.
The crinkle-melt-nuclear fusion of plastic containers that weren’t designed to be heated in the microwave.
Now, I don’t know what it is you make for breakfast at your house. I do, however, know what had darn well better be on the table at ours. And it better be hot. And it better have something to do with eggs on toast, or waffles, or pancakes, or bacon, or fresh-squeezed something-or-other, or Beta Male and Charlie Girl will have no qualms about serving me papers and showing me the door.
That’s how things run around here and I know my place.
Which is all over the kitchen conducting what I think is finely tuned precision in order to get them up, fed, clothed, and hustled out the door. And then piled into the beloved SUV. And off to school.
And all of this was happening like it does five days of every week of every school year.
I was going from whip-pour-flip that to stir-cut-slice this to CrinkleTwistPop-POP!-Crinkle tha—okay, what the hell was that?
“Dad. This doesn’t look right.”
“It looks fine. You want hot syrup on those pancakes or not, and don’t give me tha—wait. What’s that smell?”
“I think the plastic is melting.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why in the world would the plastic be melting? It’s not like it can’t go in the microwave, Lawd!”
Okay, so there it is in letters even I can read first thing in the morning. That is, if I’ve had the requisite two cups of life support coffee (and remember folks, the straight jacket isn’t for my safety…it’s for yours).
“Dad, this syrup tastes funny.”
*rolls eyes* “You think you kids never digest raw military-grade plutonium! Ingrates.”
But at least there’s Charlie Girl’s favorite and ever-ready Most Important Meal of the Day: cinnamon toast and stawberries and bacon and orange juice and “baby doll did you read your book like you were supposed to?”
“Yeah daddy, did you read the label like you were supposed to?”
“Very funny.”
My kids are lucky if they get toast in the morning. Come over to my place and you can have the full run of the kitchen. :)
…do I get an apron?
Sorry to say but that is a pretty sorry excuse for cinnamon toast (however the bacon looks delicious).
Making me hungry. And it’s 11:15pm!
Yeah, probably not a good one to be reading this time of night. Say goodnight, Mike.
Korey, okay okay…I admit it. Not my best work. You have a recipe I should know about?