My son has a habit of walking into our bedroom in the morning and talking. Just walking in and starting conversations at 6:30 in the morning…
“Hey mom, remember that time when we were at Lucy’s house and we got to play with her PlayMobile house and she had this one piece of it that came off and looked like grapes?”
Coffee. Where. Coffee.
So we made a new rule in our house that Abraham is not allowed to come into our bedroom in the morning without first saying, “Good morning.” Now it’s much better. More like this:
“Good morning, Mom and Ryan. Remember that time when we were at Lucy’s house and we got to play with her PlayMobile house and she had this one piece of it that came off and looked like grapes?”
This morning, though, my son made his bed, let the dogs out, and then came in and said good morning. I was SO incredibly pleased that this child was now 30 years old, I immediately got up and made coffee and asked…
“Abe? What would you like for breakfast?”
“Oh. Um. I’d like cereal. And bacon. And bananas. And cottage cheese. And eggs. Please.”
“Ok, new rule. You may have three things for breakfast. So please pick three.”
“Ok. Bacon. Eggs. Cottage cheese. And bananas.”
“That’s four. The new rule is you choose three.”
“Oh. Ok. Bacon. Eggs. And cottage cheese. With salt. Wait…that’s four.”
“No, baby. Salt doesn’t count as a breakfast item.”
“It doesn’t? Ok. Bacon. Eggs. Bananas. And salt.”
“Wait. Bananas or cottage cheese?”
“No. Ugh. Abe, you said bacon, eggs, and cottage cheese with salt. Are those the three you want?”
Our mornings generally consist of me bringing Bear some coffee (because the man works two jobs and deserves coffee in bed), making Abe breakfast, packing Abe’s lunch, and then drinking my coffee while eating steal cut oats.
I am obsessed with steal cut oats right now. I literally fill little mini-mason jars with almond milk and steal cut oats, put them in the fridge, and then open them in the morning and toss them in the microwave for one minute! Top with hemp and chia seeds, blueberries, and whatever else floats my boat. SO much easier than simmering them for freaking forty-five minutes everyday. And I know people put them in the croc pot over night but eww. They get mushy. I don’t like mushy.
Usually in the morning, I’m also thinking about dinner. And I don’t know about all of you, but dinner is one of the most difficult times of day for us…because 5-year-old. Growing up, we ate dinner at our formal dining room table every night. No TVs, no radios, no nothing. Just family and eating and chatting. After my dad passed away, my mom got a little more lax with dinner. We ate at the kitchen bar in front of a little, tiny TV most nights. But we were still together. We still talked.
Abraham is 5. He eats slower than molasses. He talks over everyone. He asks a million questions. He drops his fork. He complains that he doesn’t like “the green part.”
And we, in turn, are miserable.
How do other people eat dinner with a 5-year-old at the table?! IT IS IMPOSSIBLE. Is it possible for you? Are you able to eat at the dinner with your children like normal people?!
Anyway, I plated up Abe’s eggs, bacon, and cottage cheese this morning (with salt) and set it in front of him at the table. I walked back to the kitchen and grabbed my coffee and my oats. I sat down on a stool and began the few moments I have to myself each morning. It was glorious.
“MOOOOM?! YOU FORGOT MY BANANAS!!!”