TM Response #314 - Memorable Family Meal
Mom was never one for cooking. I'm not saying she was a bad cook; she was actually very good. But she never did any really "big" meals, except one: Christmas breakfast.
Mom always went all out for Christmas breakfast. For one morning a year, the cereal and the oatmeal stayed in the cupboard. First we would open presents in front of the Christmas tree. Then Daddy and I would sit in the living room while Mom cooked, either reading together or playing the piano together (although the smells wafting in from the kitchen sometimes made it hard to concentrate). After what seemed like forever Mom would call us into the dining room to eat.
The food Mom prepared was always the same: eggs, with pancakes and sausage for me and steak and toast for her and Daddy. Mom always made my pancakes into Mickey Mouse pancakes and scrambled my eggs. Her eggs were always over easy, and Daddy always had an omelet. And Daddy always had his coffee, while Mom and I had orange juice.
I still remember the last Christmas breakfast we had together. I remember having Mr. Puck sitting on my lap as I ate, and how I pretended to "feed" him pancakes and eggs. Mom thought that it was cute, how I pretended that Mr. Puck was a real person.
Sometimes I wish that I could use the Return to the Past program to go back and, if not warn my parents about what was to come then at least to have one last Christmas breakfast with both of them.
Mom always went all out for Christmas breakfast. For one morning a year, the cereal and the oatmeal stayed in the cupboard. First we would open presents in front of the Christmas tree. Then Daddy and I would sit in the living room while Mom cooked, either reading together or playing the piano together (although the smells wafting in from the kitchen sometimes made it hard to concentrate). After what seemed like forever Mom would call us into the dining room to eat.
The food Mom prepared was always the same: eggs, with pancakes and sausage for me and steak and toast for her and Daddy. Mom always made my pancakes into Mickey Mouse pancakes and scrambled my eggs. Her eggs were always over easy, and Daddy always had an omelet. And Daddy always had his coffee, while Mom and I had orange juice.
I still remember the last Christmas breakfast we had together. I remember having Mr. Puck sitting on my lap as I ate, and how I pretended to "feed" him pancakes and eggs. Mom thought that it was cute, how I pretended that Mr. Puck was a real person.
Sometimes I wish that I could use the Return to the Past program to go back and, if not warn my parents about what was to come then at least to have one last Christmas breakfast with both of them.