Every
morning my kids get up, get dressed, and head downstairs for breakfast. It goes
either of two ways. The first is the preplanned meal because my wife is
dedicated to making sure that these boys get a good meal to "start the day off
right because it's very important!"
She
sounds like a public service announcement.
The
short of it is that she will often have something ready for the boys, like
pancakes or sausage. I've watched her cook up enough batter to feed pancakes to
a regiment, and then freeze them so the boys can pop them in microwave when
they get up. To further illustrate her dedication, more than once the boys have
woken her 3 am because they are hungry. My response would be obvious. But she
has gotten up to make them a full-on pancake breakfast.
Breakfast
Option Two comes from our pantry that is stocked more fully with choices than
the aisles at any grocer. On those mornings the boys poke about the shelves
until they uncover something that strikes their fancy – or I give them
the two-minute warning that the "bus" is leaving. Then they typically default
to a Pop Tart or donut holes.
But
time permitting, they will eventually settle on box cereal. And for my sons,
cereal not only makes for a good breakfast, but also a nice follow up course at
dinner and bedtime snack. A few brands they like even hark back to the days
when I stumbled down the stairs, groggy and cranky.
Like
my boys, one favorite was Cap'n Crunch. I remember the commercials began with a
bosun's whistle and ran for a full 60-seconds. And I've always been partial to
nautical themes. Other shared favorites include Fruit Loops and Lucky
Charms. Where we part ways is that
I loved Sugar Pops and Honey Comb.
But
breakfast for me as a kid was represented by two extremes. I knew the universe
was out to get me on those days when I found a grapefruit at the table. Blah!
Those things are so bitter and sour – and no matter how much sugar I
dumped onto them, they never tasted any better. And if there was a glass of
buttermilk beside the dish, I was in hell. Sometimes I secreted a tall glass of
chocolate milk just to drown out the flavors.
My
fondest memories of breakfast were on the mornings after spending the night at
my grandmother's. She made the best
oatmeal – and I mean the real McCoy. She topped it with cinnamon sprinkled and served it in special bowls with wide rims, all looking like something
out of a commercial. My grandfather and I would smile at each other, then blow on
those first steaming spoonful of deeeelight to cool them down.
I
still have those bowls and I sometimes use them just to go back a little in
time. A southern boy, I'm partial to grits on weekend mornings; and sometimes
one of my younger two sons like to have some with me. So it kinda ties things
together. But I think my granddad would be blown away by how much these guys
put away – and pleased.
Copyright 2009 by David Falloure
