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.