Mr. P: Mom, what can I eat for breakfast?
Mama: Same thing we always have, son.
Mr. P:But I don't know what to have
Mama: You can have some fruit, make some toast, make an egg, or get some cereal.
Mr. P:What else?
Mama:That's it. Those are your choices.
Twenty minutes later.
Mama: Strapping young son, have you eaten breakfast? School is going to start soon.
Mr. P:But what can I have to eat?
Mama: Same thing we always have.
Twenty minutes later
Mama: Everybody come to the table! School time!
Mr. P:But I haven't eaten yet.
Mr. P:Mom, what can I eat for breakfast?
It's a wonder there is any hair left on my head. Remember this happens every.single.day.
Interestingly, we do not have this problem when I cook breakfast for everyone. Generally, he complains about what I'm making, then I tell him to starve, then he eats and happily asks for seconds. Every time. Unless it's waffles, and then nobody complains.
Last week I made chocolate Malt-o-Meal, my favorite breakfast that doesn't involve Krispy Kreme. It's chocolate! For breakfast! He moaned. He even cried while I looked at him like he had grown two heads. Then he ate it all up and asked for more.
And this is the kid who wants to be a chef. (A pastry chef, to be exact. He's promised to make me brownies every day when I'm old. He knows the key to my heart!)
I suppose it's my own fault. My breakfast of choice before I had to actually feed other people in the morning was coffee and a Snickers bar. (That was my pre-seven children metabolism) Truthfully, the hardest part of being diabetic was eating breakfast - not giving up potatoes, not forgoing cake. Actually eating breakfast, the most important meal of the day and the measure of Good Mothering.
I'm still sticking with the coffee, and usually that's all I have. I'm just not a breakfast person.
Neither is he, apparently.