I made waffles this morning for my sons for breakfast. I'm normally not a big "breakfast" person, I don't particularly enjoy pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage and other traditional breakfast foods. I'd rather have a turkey sandwich for breakfast. But my husband LOVED breakfast. He was the one who would break out the Aunt Jemima's on Saturday morning, and make pancakes.
So this morning, I decided to splurge for the kids and make the big traditional breakfast. When I went to look for the pancake mix, there wasn't any. We didn't have any Bisquick, either. So I went to the computer and looked up a waffle recipe from scratch. I made the waffles, served the waffles, and after the kids took a few bites, they looked at me really sadly. "What's wrong?" I asked.
They looked terrible. They wanted to tell me something but they didn't want to say it. They kept giving each other looks, as if to say, "YOU tell her." "No, YOU tell her." But I already knew what it was. "I'm sorry Mommy. We like Daddy's waffles better."
Damn.
I assured them that it was OK, and explained that I had to make them from scratch this time, because we didn't have any pancake mix. They actually looked relieved, as if they were thinking, "Oh thank goodness it's not Mom's fault. We can dislike the waffles and not feel bad!"
I knew the feeling. After my own dad died, I really missed his French Toast. Mom's never tasted the same.
After the waffles were in the compost bin, my younger son took out some pizza rolls from the freezer and made them for breakfast. All three of us chowed down on them. No hard feelings.
But rest assured I will be buying pancake mix on my next trip to the grocery store.
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