Breakfast of Champions
If I ever have a nervous breakdown, it'll be because my daughter can't decide what to have for breakfast. Or because Gossip Girl doesn't tape on Tivo again. But I'm betting breakfast.
Every fucking morning we have this discussion.
"I don't know what I want. What do we have?"
"We have cereal, toast, eggs, waffles, yoghurt, banana and lasagna." (Of course we don't have lasagna for breakfast, but do you really think that if I culinarily exerted myself the night before I'm not going to mention it?)
"I don't know."
"What do you feel like having?"
"That's what I don't know."
(insert image of clock with the hour hand going by)
"I guess I'll have eggs."
"Great! I'll make them."
"No, I'll do it. Ok. I guess I need a pan?" (deafening noise as pan is removed from panitorium). "And a flipper. And some salt and butter. All set."
"WHAT ABOUT THE EGGS?"
"Oh. Yes."
All of this takes approximately twenty hours. and by this time, my diet pill is wearing off.
I know that I should applaud that she is making her own breakfast. And I do. From my padded cell.
P.S. Ok, so my mother is the one who made the lasagna, and not me, but is that any reason that I can't take the credit for it? It's not like the invented penicillin or anything. Although if I'd made the lasagna, penicillin is not a bad thing to have on hand.
Every fucking morning we have this discussion.
"I don't know what I want. What do we have?"
"We have cereal, toast, eggs, waffles, yoghurt, banana and lasagna." (Of course we don't have lasagna for breakfast, but do you really think that if I culinarily exerted myself the night before I'm not going to mention it?)
"I don't know."
"What do you feel like having?"
"That's what I don't know."
(insert image of clock with the hour hand going by)
"I guess I'll have eggs."
"Great! I'll make them."
"No, I'll do it. Ok. I guess I need a pan?" (deafening noise as pan is removed from panitorium). "And a flipper. And some salt and butter. All set."
"WHAT ABOUT THE EGGS?"
"Oh. Yes."
All of this takes approximately twenty hours. and by this time, my diet pill is wearing off.
I know that I should applaud that she is making her own breakfast. And I do. From my padded cell.
P.S. Ok, so my mother is the one who made the lasagna, and not me, but is that any reason that I can't take the credit for it? It's not like the invented penicillin or anything. Although if I'd made the lasagna, penicillin is not a bad thing to have on hand.
posted by Marinka at
7:27 AM
14 Comments:
This is the beauty of having day care or school feed your kid. For $5 a week, I will never have this issue...at least not on a weekday.
Instead I have it with my husband. Every weekend morning.
My son always wants to make his own sandwich. I have such a hard time with this because the peanut butter and Nutella (don't judge me) and the counter are ALWAYS covered with peanut butter and Nutella and I am always the one to clean it up.
Seriously. I gave my daughter two hard boiled eggs this morning, because she always loves them and everthing else has now been ruled out (how can you not like Toaster Strudel? you begged for it last week).
I found her sitting at the table looking like she was going to cry, because now she doesn't like egg whites.
What the hell??
Seriously, I should have taken a picture of her.
My kids are 3 and we have the same problem - thanks for letting me know it doesn't get better with age! Whats wrong with lasagna for breakfast.
Oh Em Gee I feel your pain. the difference in our house is that i can ask 60 billion times what little man wants for breakfast and i get no response whatsoever. i end up yelling at him every morning, "LITTLE MAN!!! WHAT!!DO!!YOU!!WANT!!FOR!BREAK!FAST??!!!I KNOW YOU CAN (FECKING) HEAR ME, SO ANSWER ME, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS LEGO!!!!!"
oh, by the way? tag! you're it.
i hate that.
now...
i get breakfast prepared (on the go) for them.
aka. cereal in a bag with a glass of milk.
i hate working and running out the door every morning.
See, you're too nice.
The ideal morning:
"Here's your eggs."
I hate that Gossip Girl didn't tape for me either. And now I have to wait til Sunday to see it on the CW site? Jeez, don't they know I need my fix?!
My little man dawdles about breakfast. Eating it, that is. He loves to cook his own Toaster Strudel.
You ARE nice! Man.
But this is why I now pay the school to feed my son lunch. I gave up.
So, what you're telling me is that the mind numbing slowness never ends and I should book my padded cell now?
I wish like hell I could remember the comment I left earlier...before Blogger ate it...but I can't.
I think it was like: I'm glad I don't have to do that every morning. Only it was funnier.
I do remember the end, however:
P.S. I'd like to see the panitorium sometime.
you know, if you leave the loasagn in the fridge long enough, it will turn into penicillin.
My kids and lunches, DO not get me started. Oh and I changed my url
http://manicmariah.blogspot.com
Given the choice, my daughter would definitely choose the lasagne. The girl would eat some kind of pasta for every meal if she could.
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