Sunday, January 20, 2008

French Toast

French Toast. Simple, right? A few pieces of bread, some egg, a dash of milk, a pan on a stove. But french toast has taken on an entirely different meaning in my house. It has become the antithesis of what is wrong. See, everyone in my house eats pancakes. I don't like pancakes. So when the other person in my marriage makes breakfast (his choice btw) he has to go OUT of his way to make french toast. And that is the problem. Going out of his way.

What has relationships become? If one partner feels that they are going out of one's way to do something so trivial for their partner? I go out of my way everyday to carry up loads of laundry two flights of stairs at a time. I consider it a workout and part of life. So where did the french toast go wrong? And just try explaining that eggs are good too, just not as filling. Oh boy! You've just started a weeks worth of ignoring the person!

So, while he hems and haws and snickers bad words under his breath, he makes my french toast. I think tomorrow, as I'm taking care of his spawn, who have the day off from school, I will hem and haw. But first I'll have to turn off the mommy instinct to nurture.

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