Breakfast Time is Daddy-Daughters Time!
I’ve always loved breakfast. To the best of my knowledge, as a kid I never missed one. At our home, breakfast was good stuff. None of that sugary, chocolate-covered, rainbow-flavored crap. We’re talkin’ real, honest to goodness breakfast, just like God ordained in creation. Mom or Dad, depending upon Dad’s shift schedule, would make us the day’s menu: Oatmeal–often with raisins and cinamon; eggs (sometimes scrambled with cheddar cheese) and bacon; pancakes; Malt-O-Meal; cracked wheat–man, it just don’t get better’n that. Yes, we also had boxed cereal, but once again, this was the good stuff: Wheaties, cornflakes, Grape-Nuts . . . you get the picture.
Then there was the whole cereal-box-reading ritual of breakfast. My sisters and I, when we ate boxed cereal, would each have our own boxes, usually, but not always, the box out of which our respective cereals had come. Occasionally, we were a box or two short, so the box(es) would have to be passed around the table. Sometimes minor disputes arose over who got to read what box, or read what box first. But given the o-dark-early nature of these repasts, there was not a lot of energy devoted to such conflicts.
Well, now I’m a daddy. And I must confess, I love making breakfast for my daughters. Yes, that’s daughters, plural. Delaina has reached the rice-cereal milestone. So, what’s on the menu? What do you think? Oatmeal and raisins for Sofie and me. Gerber rice cereal for Delaina.
There’s no box reading yet, but occasionally I will read the Scriptures for the day. We always pray before the meals: O Lord Jesus Christ, bless the food and drink of Thy servants, for Thou art holy, now and ever and unto ages of ages. It’s a short prayer, and Sofie now reminds us to hold hands and say “Our Father” (which is her term for praying, even when we don’t pray the “Our Father” specifically). In fact, one morning I had prepared Sofie’s breakfast, we prayed and then I busied myself fixing my lunch, and then my own breakfast. When I sat down, Sofie reached out her hand for me to hold it and said, “Daddy? Our Father?” So we prayed again.
Delaina, for her part prays by simply smiling and cooing.
I still love breakfast time.