Some mornings I struggle to get a fully functioning sentence out of my mouth.
But then sometimes life throws me curve balls before I’ve even finished my first cup of mud.
Like this morning, I was sitting at my laptop sipping coffee when Miss3 raced past clutching something unthinkable in her hands.
“Where did you…?” I started, but she was gone, disappearing into the next room before I could snatch away her treat. My first thought was that she’d dug this thing out from under a bed or something. But then she’d come from the kitchen, not the bedrooms.
Walking into the kitchen to investigate my nose was assaulted by the most unbreakfasty of smells.
I might add, I’ve a bit of a history with feeding my brood non-traditional breakfast foods. Breakfast pizza, by way of example, is always a big hit on the occasions mum is sleeping in and Dad’s in charge. Likewise, breakfast Chinese takeaway. It all depends, obviously, on what was for dinner.
But not this morning. This morning’s effort was being freshly made by my dear wife.
“Umm,” I started, not quite sure how to continue.
“You got a problem?” Tracey asked, her eyebrow arched in a ‘say something, I dare you’ sort of a way.
I looked over at Miss9 and Master8, who both had a handful of this wonderful new source of breakfast fiber.
“It’s just….I was only…,” I wanted to say something, but I did feel the need for caution. It crossed my mind that maybe having all these kids of ours had finally taken its toll on my wife and she’d simply lost it. “I wondered why….why you would-”
“We’ve got nothing left in the pantry, so I’m using up whatever I can find,” Tracey said matter-of-factly, interrupting my blithering.
“Ah,” I said, nodding sagely. But then I noticed a nearly full box of cereal sitting on the table. and I know we’ve still got milk because we buy 20 litres a week and even then there’s always at least a couple of long life milk in the cupboard as backup – we have coffees to consider. “But I can see…I mean, there’s-”
“It’s for lunches, Bruce. I made the popcorn to put in their lunchboxes,” Tracey said. “I just had some left over so I told them they could eat it.”
“Ah,” I said again, very much relieved I wouldn’t have to take over raising all our kids by myself. I don’t think I’d last as long as Tracey has before I’d go nuts. “Are there any…?”
“None. The kids got to it all before I could save you some.”
So at last we were back on familiar ground.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I sensibly told Tracey, finally managing to complete the morning’s first full sentence. And I hadn’t even finished my first coffee yet.
Plus I can’t wait to see what’s for dinner – about all that’s left in the pantry is Metamucil.
When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutesBruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page.
’raising a family on little more than laughs’