Thursday being a holiday for 4/5 of the Marks family, I had the rare luxury of sleeping in. I lolled in bed for a while after Alan left to teach, reading The Tower, the Zoo and the Tortoise. James and Madeline had already scavenged for their breakfast, but Jeremy was apparently having some trouble. (You have to understand that frozen Eggo Waffles are a staple in our house. And No, I'm not proud of this, but that's they way life is for us.) Jeremy came into our room and announced:
"There's no waffles and I don't know what to have because I know I want syrup, but there's no waffles. Do you have any suggestions?"
[You should also know, as I did, that we were also out of milk, so homemade waffles or pancakes were not an option. Plus, I was feeling lazy, remember?]
Me, at my most maternal (ha!): "Uh, no not really. Go find something else."
j: "Well, can I have syrup on toast?"
me: "Um, no. We do not use toast as a syrup delivery system." [unless it's French toast-don't get technical on me!]
Several minutes later I hear an odd noise, sort of a cross between "nih!" (a la Monty Python) and "humph!".
I hear it a few more times, gaining in intensity so as to be certain I can hear it.
I realize that Jeremy is in his room sulking about not being able to have syrup-on-toast for breakfast.
Part of me thinks this is funny, but part of me is not amused mostly because I'm getting close to the end of my book and I really want to finish it in peace.
me: "Jeremy, that's enough. You are not having syrup-on-toast for breakfast."
We go back and forth a couple times until he comes up with this unique argument:
"But I want to try something new! I've never tried it before!"
By now, I am laughing, but he's not amused and I have a mere 2 pages left in my book.
Strange letters from my father
1 day ago