It’s a Monday morning. Translation: kids are tired, I’m tired, there’s an edgy air in the house. Even the cats don’t seem to be feeling it today.
I decide to tackle the morning like Pollyana. You know, smother them with love and smiles and songs to help turn that frown upsidedown. And, I made them both breakfast.
~~You may want to hold off on giving me any Good Mom points there. (I’m making use of the literary device known as foreshadowing, and by announcing it, I’m being very subtle also.)~~
There were only two boxes of cereal left in the pantry, one of which was Corn Chex–and nobody actually eats that. I only bought it because it’s supposed to go in some recipe. The other was a nearly empty box of Lucky Charms. In full disclosure, I was hoping to eat those last delicious bits of marshmallowy goodness after they left for school. To make that work, I needed to come up with an alternative for the kidlets.
So, I made them toast.
No eggs–we’re out of those too. No fruit–finished that yesterday. No juice–haven’t had any of that in days. I have been avoiding the grocery store lately. Just not feeling that vibe. Blech. The fact that we still have milk and bread is some kind of miracle.
The Girl had two pieces of GF (gluten free) cinnamon raisin bread in the freezer–Shazam!!!, so I made her those. For the Boy, I popped two pieces of wheat bread in the toaster oven.
Buttered those babies up, singing a little song about buttery, crunchy bread tasting so yummy, put them on (gourmet) paper plates and set them on the table. Added cups and milk for a little more substance and nutrition. Breakfast was served!! Come and get it!
They were quietly eating, still trying to work through that Monday slump. After the Boy’s second bite, we had this conversation:
Boy: (defiantly–almost angrily) I’m not eating this!
Me: (incredulous at his ingratitude … how dare he after I slaved over those two pieces of bread?!) What?! Why not?
Boy: Because there’s mold on it.
(Wait?! What?? No! I wouldn’t feed my kid moldy breakfast TWICE, would I? That doesn’t seem statistically possible. Note: I may or may not have a solid understanding of statistics.)
Me: No way! I didn’t see anything when I put it in the toaster oven.
Girl: (totally taking his side) Yah, Mom. It’s moldy. I see it too.
Boy: (spitting toast into the trash can, rinsing his mouth out at the sink) Geez, woman. You really want to poison me, don’t you!!
Me: (walking over to examine the furry, green spot on the toast) Now, remember our talk last time, it’s just penicillin. You’ll be fine.
Boy: (looking at me with I’m-not-buying-your-lies eyes) Seriously?!
So, I grabbed the box of Lucky Charms, a bowl and spoon and set them on the table for him. Bye bye, scrumptious breakfast that was almost mine.
I guess the moral of this Mother of the Year story is: if you want to eat the Lucky Charms, don’t feed your kid moldy toast.