My mom and dad came into town Saturday night for a few days and the doodles have been over the moon with excitement at having them here.
In a recurring joke over my last 16 years of marriage, when asked what he would like for breakfast when visiting, my father will often answer “Oh. Eggs Benedict.” We all laugh and he gets toast, or cereal or pancakes like the rest of the family. This visit there was a twist in the regularly scheduled script. Monday morning Jonathan asked the Cheesedoodle what he wanted for breakfast, and Papa suggested the grunts in question were best interpreted “Eggs Benedict.” Jonathan responded to the slightly confused cheesedoodle that he couldn’t have that for breakfast “because we don’t have any English muffins.” Tending to a feverish and cranky sickerdoodle, I entered the conversation with characteristic sarcasm: “right. It’s always a lack of English muffins that stop us from having Eggs Benedict.” Jonathan looked at me, slightly surprised, and said, “Usually. I didn’t think you wanted it. I thought that was the joke.”
There was a moment’s pause and my dad said, “So if someone were to pick up some English muffins, we could have Eggs Benedict?”
Jonathan shrugged and said, “Sure.”
There was a slight sonic boom as my dad fetched his shoes and left to bring back the necessary grocery items.
Everyone got into the event. The children helped Jonathan mix up the Hollandaise sauce. Papa warmed the ham in a skillet. I poached the eggs, and my mother buttered the English muffins. Because the mackerdoodle was involved, we all had some sort of chef hat from the dress up box to wear and she referred to us all as “chef” for the duration. This included the sentence, “You’re all doing a good job, chefs. Keep going. I’m just going to the potty.” She also asked at one point if her Uncle Chris would mind if she called him Uncle Chef. The family culinary genes seem to have found a firm rooting in my oldest doodle.
The eggs were truly delicious, made more so by the joy of three generations coming together to successfully produce a meal we had previously considered too difficult to attempt. It was a breakfast 16 years in the making, and well worth the wait.
Good job chefs, indeed.