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When the Kids are in charge of the kitchen.

When our children were small I was pretty paranoid about them working in ‘my’ kitchen and making a mess but it happened more than once. Now I’d give anything to have them stirring up a mess in the kitchen but to late, those years are long gone.

Several times they served us breakfast in bed and one year for our anniversary they shooed us out of the house (they wanted to surprise us!). We left the house but parked a little way from the house and watched! The girls took charge of the ‘cooking’ and managed to get their brother’s help with setting the table and they coaxed them into borrowing from the neighbors what they couldn’t find in my kitchen. Oh my gosh! We watched as one son came dashing out the front door and hurried to our next door neighbor’s!. In just a little while another son dashed out and went to a different neighbor’s. Finally we were beckoned home and welcomed into our dining room where a candlelight dinner was waiting. The table was set with my best china & silverware along with cloth napkins. Seven-up soda filled the wine glasses. Our children were dressed in their Sunday best! They served us pancakes with fresh sliced fruit on the side. This poem by Ruth Chadwick truly captures that and other special meals our children served us:

The grapefruit is strangely dissected

The toast is decidedly burned

And, somehow, I’ve always objected

To egg yolks first broken, then turned.

I don’t feel so very oatmeal-y

(I’d rather have bran flakes instead.)

But am I complaining? Not really...

The kids brought me breakfast in bed!

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