On a Friday Morning

We have our groceries delivered, because there’s a local service that is mostly organic, local, free-range, or a combination of the three and it works out to the same price as the big-box place. Delivery day is Friday, and I ran out of the girls’ usual breakfast granola yesterday. Fail. I also forgot to go to the store to get stopgap granola yesterday. Double-fail. 

This morning saw us with nothing whatsoever for breakfast, because Maggie won’t eat eggs and I was not about to fire up the griddle for pancakes. I do many things wonderfully well but pouring batter–even from a batter bowl–for pancakes is not one of them. 

In desperation I dug through our freezer chest and found the very last quart bag of strawberries I froze last summer. Then I raided the fridge and the pantry, coming up with a quarter-pint of double Yorkshire cream, some peanut butter, a rather sad-looking banana, and some English cream honey.

So, that’s how my children are eating the most ENORMOUS bowls of “strawberry ice cream” this morning, because I lied to them and told them the extra-thick protein smoothie was ice cream. 

I regret nothing.


One thought on “On a Friday Morning

  1. You wouldn’t believe the things I get Keira to eat because I call them “cookies”. Own that “breakfast ice cream”, girl.

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