We’ve discovered my culinary genius

My Honey had band practice on Friday night.  That always bums me out, but not for the reason you probably think.  Unlike many women who marry a musician, I have no problem with him playing with his friends or having gigs – even ones out of town.  I’ve never been able to understand those women who get with musicians, probably having met them in a circumstance like a bar or club that involved music in the first place, and then demand they stop playing.  Well, in my experience, they don’t demand anything, they just make it increasingly difficult for the guy to get to play.

Anyway, that’s not my problem with him playing.  I WANT him to go play.  You can’t even begin to imagine how annoying he gets if he doesn’t get out to play on a frequent basis. For a while after we got married, his current band dissolved and he didn’t play for a couple of months.  By the end of it, I was begging him to find someone to play with.  He was driving me insane. 

But as I said, that’s not the reason his having practice bums me out.  It’s because I have to figure out, all by myself mind you, what to have for dinner.  This, as we’ve discussed before, is not my forte.  But this Friday, I had a brilliant epiphany. 

“So you guys,” I said as Sassy, The Bandit and I all lounged on the couch watching TV after Daddy left.  “What do you want for dinner.”

“I don’t care,” they both said.  Clearly they knew what they were getting themselves into when Daddy left without feeding them.  They probably thought we were going to eat Goldfish crackers and peanut butter with a spoon or something.  I haven’t served that yet, but it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility.

And then it occurred to me.  “Hey,” I said, sitting straight up on the couch, the throw blanket coming loose and disturbing the cat.  “How about if we have waffles?”

The kids looked at me like I was a mad genius. 

“Yeah!” they screamed in glee.  The cat fled the scene, wanting no more part of these shenanigans.

While we ate homemade Winnie the Pooh and Tigger waffles covered in butter and warm maple syrup, they asked why we’ve never done this before.

“Cause Daddy won’t let me make breakfast food for dinner,” I told him.  I’ve never been able to figure out why he takes such umbrage at the idea, but he refuses.  When I was single, I ate breakfast food for dinner all the time.  Maybe not waffles, but certainly cereal or eggs and toast.

The kids exchanged a glance.  “Can we tell him or is it a secret?” Sassy asked taking a drink from her ice cold milk.

“I don’t care if you tell him.  He won’t care that we ate it, but he won’t,” I explained.

“Daddy is crazy!” The Bandit said with a great deal of emphasis on the last word.  “This is the best dinner EVER, Mom.”

Looks like practice night is forever after Waffle Night at Chez Bright.  If you come over, bring more syrup.  We’re running low.