Breakfast

Isabel is away for a few days, off to visit with her mom. I'm alone with the kids until late Monday.

Now, for many dads, this would be a recipe for disaster. Some of my wife's friends have suggested as much to her.

But I refuse, and always have refused, to be one of "those" dads. You know the type: like Bill Cosby, in his famous "Chocolate Cake for Breakfast" routine. His wife tells him to get up and make breakfast for the kids, and when his four year old asks for chocolate cake, he realizes it has eggs, milk, and wheat, and happily complies. Very funny bit.)

But that's especially funny this week, because the boys have been in baseball camp, and I was home with Catherine on Tuesday while Isabel went to work, and I took her to breakfast at IHOP so she could have a chocolate chip pancake. And the only reason I took her out on Tuesday was because, when I was in work on Monday, Isabel tried to take Catherine to IHOP for a chocolate chip pancake, but the line was too long, so they tried to go to our neighborhood bakery for a chocolate croissant, but it's closed on Mondays, so they just went across the street to the deli, which had stopped serving breakfast at this point, so Catherine had a large chocolate chip cookie for breakfast at 10:45.

This is, of course, on top of the chocolate chip pancakes I made for Catherine on her birthday morning. It was that kind of a week. At least it was, until Isabel left.

(For the record, this morning for breakfast, Peter had a bagel with cream cheese; John had a ham and cheese tortilla; Catherine had toast; and all three had fresh fruit.)