Beyond Breakfast

This morning the kids wanted to help me make breakfast.  Uh-huh, that would be great.  We got some tunes going, and broke into stations.  Yohannes was making the fruit salad, Faven was keen to run the espresso machine and Lauren and I were in charge of the pancakes.  Simple.

Yohannes cut up the pear into perfect bite-size pieces, complete with the seeds and stickers.  I stopped to admire his handi-work and thought it best to demonstrate what I wanted him to do with the orange.  Meanwhile Faven exuded the confidence of a Barista, so I let her at it – just until she called out “Oh no!”  I stepped in just as the froth was oozing over the side of the pitcher and down Faven’s fingers; the hot lava caused her to let go of the pitcher, which I caught just as it was about to hit the counter top.  As I eased the hot container onto the counter, I glanced over at Lauren, and she was alternately licking the spoon and then mixing the pancake batter.  “Lauren”, I called, she paused, oblivious and with the spoon in her mouth, “What?” she questioned.  My chin hit my chest as I let out an exasperated sigh.

I scurried back over to help Lauren, which Faven took as a green light to carry on. 

Lauren questioned, “ Is it okay to lick the spoon and then keep using it?”

“Well, not really”, I responded.

“But Mom, the heat will kill the germs, right?” she pressed.

“Hmm….. I don’t know.  But let’s just say, if you did that in a restaurant you would be fired.”

“Well, I’m not in a restaurant am I?” she finished.

I gave up, gently taking the spoon and replacing it with another to give the batter a fierce stirring.

My gaze took in Yohannes’ technique with the mango; there are no words to adequately describe it.  Imagine the skinning and gutting process after catching a prize fish, only the ‘meat’ was smooshed between keen and clumsy fingers and then scraped into the bowl.  Okay, moving on.

Lauren actually managed to get some batter onto the grill, and I felt like we were on our way!  Just at that moment, I heard the espresso machine sputtering and wheezing as if it was about to explode.  I am not sure what Faven had been doing, but there was a fine layer of coffee grounds covering the counter, floor and machine.  I looked at her, with the utter love of a mother who is amazed by their child’s deeds.  Then I calmly, but with an edge, informed her that it would be great if she stopped and waited for me to guide her through – she (haughtily) reported that she knows what to do!  Then I merely grunted and turned off the machine; I am not sure who was ‘steaming’ more, the machine or me.  Faven stood off in the background, quietly observing, just out of my reach (smart kid!).  I disassembled it to see what the problem was, cleaned out everything and started over. 

By now, there were some pancakes ready to come off the griddle, so Lauren held them out to me with the patience of an elite runner at the starting gate, ‘Mawm” she beseeched.  Kinda busy here, I thought, but scooped a plate from the drawer and got there just as she dropped them.  I didn’t quite make the catch.  I stared at the pancakes on the floor and with only a moment hesitation picked them up and put them on the plate with six eyes staring at me.  Into the warming drawer they went. 

Yohannes, inclined to interrupt at the least appropriate times – asked me, “How many strawberries should I cut up?”  I told him eight; he counted all eight, out loud.  I slid back over to Faven and asked her if she was ready to try again.  It took everything in me not to banish her to the back forty and just do it myself. “Okay mom” she quietly said, she took one reticent step towards me, waiting to see how I would handle her in my space.  I welcomed her in.  This time the espresso went into the shot glasses; she pulled the glass out (with the coffee/water still flowing) and quickly dumped it into the coffee mug before sliding it back underneath for more.  I asked her what she was doing?  She responded, “making coffee”.  After some dialogue I found out that she was going to continue running the water through the espresso until she got enough shots to fill the whole mug.  Hmmm…….I was completely surprised by this and stumped at how to re-direct her. 

Meanwhile, from the pancake maker, I heard another insistent cry for the pancake plate.  With a surge of speed, I retrieved the plate and she piled more onto it.  Then she queried, “When can I learn to make the coffee like Faven?”  I paused, “I don’t think we are quite ready for that, but I can show you how to make hot chocolate if you want.”  “You can make hot chocolate with that?” she asked with surprise.  “Uh-huh.  Finish up the pancakes and we’ll get to it.”

I got the milk and chocolate sauce ready, set the table and said a silent prayer.  I showed Lauren how to steam the milk and what temperature she was aiming for.  She finished that, and I directed her to pour the hot chocolate into her waiting mug.  I had made her wear oven mitts while preparing her drink, as I didn’t want her to get burned.  Now, as she poured the hot chocolate, it so happened that our foster cat Carlton was sauntering by.  Lauren completely missed the cup; the hot liquid hit the counter top and sprayed all over Lauren, the counter, the cabinets and the cat.  Thankfully I was there to grab it and save just enough for her to have a taste.  I looked at the mess and said, “Let’s eat!”  Just after that the dog walked through the chocolate milk and spread her milky paw prints throughout the kitchen.  Laugh or cry?  I decided to laugh.

It had been almost two hours since we had started.  On my own, I think I could have had breakfast on the table inside a half an hour.  The kids were a mess, the kitchen was a disaster (it took me another two hours to clean up), but we had made it together and we enjoyed it together.  Now, I think I’ll take a nap – so I have the energy to handle lunch.