Breakfast!!!!

With John away on a play date in New York (50^th anniversary of the Long Island Live Steamers), I reminded myself to check the weather before going out to walk. That’s something that John normally does in our routine. The forecast mentioned a thunderstorm at 10 – hours to spare, or so I thought. I walked at my usual pace and chatted with neighbor Marla at the gatehouse. Well, there isn’t a real gatehouse, but she lives in the first house to our area, and they have a porch gate for dog Albert. I was in no hurry, knowing the grandsons were still sound asleep. I watered the stone planter by our porch, waved to Bob on his porch across the street, switched on the angel water fountain, and read the newspaper. I hadn’t finished the first section when I heard a suspicious sound – rain! The pounding drops drowned out the sound of the water fountain completely. If I had been caught in that downpour, I would have come home looking like a drowned rat.

I finished reading the paper, with frequent glances at the run-off stream by the street. It’s the only natural stream we can lay claim to, and it materializes only in a cloudburst. I opened the front door, expecting to hear no one and planning to start a pot of coffee. Hmmm. I smelled warm bread. How could that be?

Grandson Nathaniel talks of cooking, that being one of his interests. He is often at home alone before and after school, when his dad is working. He thinks nothing of preparing a meal for himself or experimenting with an interesting recipe. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but the previous night I asked if he would be interested in cooking breakfast. I suggested biscuits, knowing he had tried them recently. He thought of egg-in-the-eye, but we didn’t have enough bread. I countered with blueberry muffins. We left the discussion at that point and wandered off to bed.

After taking ten steps through the hall, I saw a bowl with biscuits on the counter, and Nathaniel was stirring eggs and flipping sausage patties at the stove. Wow! He found all the ingredients and all the utensils by himself! I am still amazed.

I put plates, knives, forks, jams, and butter on the counter as David came in. Like an experienced cook, Nathaniel knew his audience. He knew David was already up and in the shower and that I was more than likely on the porch. The sausage was for me, and he cooked bacon for David, spineless bacon, I might add. David likes his bacon limp, and Nathaniel carefully under cooked it. We all took things to the porch and began eating while the food was still warm. What a treat! Everything was perfect. In addition, rain began to fall again, which is something we all liked.

As we finished eating, Nathaniel told me he was planning to wash dishes. I said I’d be glad to do them, since he had done the cooking.

“No,” he said, “you’ve been doing all the cooking and cleaning up, and I’m going to do it.”

He did. Isn’t he marvelous? I would consider renting him out for the rest of the summer, but I couldn’t bear to be without him.