My wife left very early this morning to take the Praxis test in English at a college about forty miles away from where we live.  That means I was left in charge of breakfast.  But it gets worse.

When my children awoke, they all knew I was left in charge of breakfast.

“Do you want eggs and toast?” (which I had already made).

“No, we want cereal with milk” (Grace and Penn almost simultaneously).

Zoe got up about fifteen minutes earlier than everyone else, went straight to the refrigerator, and showed me what she wanted for breakfast: leftovers from last night’s white bean and sweet potato soup.

Who was I to argue?

But of course once Zoe saw that Grace and Penn were having cereal with milk, she suddenly wanted cereal with milk. Copycat.

Now cereal with milk in our household can never be just cereal with milk.  It has to have something else.  Grace started the barrage:

“Can I have bananas with it?”

“I think we’re out of bananas.”

“Can I have blueberries?”

“I think we’re out of blueberries.”

“Can I have chocolate chips”

Quite uncontrollably, deep in the recesses of my mind, an ancient song started playing: “Dad is great! He gave us the chocolate cake!”

“No, Grace, you can’t have chocolate chips.”  Although I sincerely felt her suggestion was a good one and actually wanted some myself, I still fear the conniption fit.

Now you need to understand that my daughter is not just a five year old.  She is five going on thirty.  That means she does not trust any man’s account of what is in the refrigerator without checking first herself.  After we both rummaged through the refrigerator, I said, “I think the only fruit that we have is apples.”

“Ok, I’ll have an apple, but I don’t want it cut up.”

“Ok?”

Then Zoe, of course, wanted an apple too.

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