Nathaniel’s Breakfast

Grandson Nathaniel (16) loves to cook. When he first comes to visit, I do the grandmother thing and try to prepare the dishes I think he likes. One of these times, I’ll learn to offer him the use of the kitchen earlier. Actually, I think I did this time, but maybe I didn’t use the right combination of words. He offered to prepare breakfast two days before he was due to leave. We jumped at it. He likes to have the kitchen to himself, so he cooked while we walked to the creek. It’s amazing to me that he always finds the ingredients and the utensils he needs.

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As soon as we stepped inside the front door, I knew we were having maple sausage. He cooked sausage for himself and me and bacon for Grandpa and David. There were fluffy scrambled eggs and biscuits brushed with honey butter. He had also set the table with dishes, cutlery, and condiments. He was totally ready, and so were we.

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He posed for the presentation of the biscuits.  He almost burned his hands, having just taken the dish out of the oven where it had been keeping warm.

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After I buttered my mine, I took a photo before digging in. Everything tasted as good as it looked. What a treat!

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Nathaniel’s talents are not one-dimensional. He offered to help clean, so John asked him to do a giraffe job, dusting the ceiling fans. There are six inside the house, and he had them done in short order. It certainly helps that he didn’t need to carry around a step stool.

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Yes, the house is going to seem very empty when he leaves. At least we’ll still have grandson David here for another week before he has to go back to college.


With John away on a play date in New York (50th 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.

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Nathaniel cooking sausage and eggs.


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.

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Breakfast on the porch


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Drop biscuits


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.

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My hero!  Washing dishes!