I just returned to school from a beyond-lovely Thanksgiving break. It was so nice to be with the people who mean the most to me and eat way too much home-cooked food by mothers who dash around like little food fairies in the kitchen. But as it turned out, I spent some time cooking as well. NOT like a little food fairy. And here’s where the story begins.
Thomas likes waffles. I like to make him waffles. So at one in the afternoon, he came over to the house and after putting the first cup of batter in the iron, I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Something was wrong, so I opened the iron and there was a white, still-mushy waffle. The 20 year old iron didn’t get hot enough, so in dismay, I had a giant bowl of waffle batter and no where to put it. Thom was still set on breakfast food, so he recommended french toast instead (saying if I mixed it up, he’d make it). I had all the ingredients together except the six eggs. Upon looking in the fridge, I found two. That called for a Dollar General run, then we were finally able to make us some toast!
What was so fun was I had never seen my guy cook like that. He was flipping that toast like nobody’s business and was really enjoying himself, as you can see.
We then decided to keep going and make pancakes with the leftover waffle batter. AND we heated up some bacon and brought out nuts, cool whip and powdered sugar. By 2:30 we were done. What started as a disappointed Mal over a broken waffle iron turned into a beautiful, sugary feast with my man that we both were proud of.
He’s so go with the flow. I admire him.