Weekend mornings are always fun for the entire family.
The best benefit of having kids: the permissive expectation that you, yourself, can and should act like a child sometimes too.
Saturdays are habitually Chick-Fil-A biscuit mornings, with the whole clan tucking in to flakiness and acting flaky.
Sundays I’ll typically make a breakfast of pancakes or scrambled eggs or french toast. Anything I can do in a big batch or heaping, steaming plate/bowl. This Sunday it was french toast and as we all dug in, I recounted my own version of the story of Goldilocks and The Three Bears, themed for the holiday season of 2008.
“Once upon a time there was a young lady named Golidilocks. It was Christmas time so she went to the mall looking for gifts.
Upon entering the mall she came upon a Sharper Image store and was immediately taken in by the bright, flashing lights and exotic, luxurious textures.
She spied a row of three heated bearskin recliners with vibrating back massagers and sat in the first, large lounger.
‘This chair is too big and stiff. The bearskin is taut and brittle and the heating unit is stuck at eleven!’
She moved on to the medium-sized chair.
‘This chair is too squishy and the massager won’t stop going. I think I’m getting motion sickness!’
Finally, she sat in the smallest chair and found relaxation.
‘This chair is just right!’
Just then as Goldilocks was closing her eyes and propping her hands behind her head, a sales associate approached.
‘May I help you, ma’am?’
‘Sure. How much is this chair?’
‘Fifteen hundred twenty two dollars and eighty six sense,’ the sales associate flatly stated.
That is when Goldilocks ran screaming from the mall and into the woods, never to be seen again.
Of course this little retelling was interrupted multiple times to correct me, all of which I ignored.