life, Parenting, relationships, Uncategorized
Comments 6

Our 45 Minutes of Eggs {parenting unscripted}

Thursdays are egg days.

You see, I’m only a morning person on vacation. Get me to a hotel, a new locale with places to explore and shops and foods to experience, and I am up at dawn, ready for an adventure.

Any other day of the year I need coffee brewed and usually hand delivered in order to awaken before 8 a.m.

I’ve ceased to apologize or feel guilty that I’m not greeting the rising sun with a smile.

Since the accident, which rendered me absolutely useless before mid-morning (think pain+medications) I’ve had a hard time making morning hours count. I’m getting better, and truth be told, leaving off pain medication helped.

So my youngest boy, opportunist that he is, has found that Thursdays are the best day to ask for eggs.

Here’s the reason why: the house is vacated by everyone else by eight and he and I share 45 minutes before the bus arrives for late-start Thursday. It’s a morning each week set aside for teachers to collaborate, but for Nikko, it’s become tradition.

“Can we have eggs today?” he leans over me, grinning.

I stretch legs sore from screws and metal and the daily exercise that makes me stronger and pad off to the kitchen and begin making morning noises in an otherwise quiet house.

The skillet, black iron, heats and the shell cracks and the fork tines scrape across porcelain as I break the golden yoke and whip, whip the mixture into butter-yellow.

The pooling liquid sizzles and the bread toasts golden and he and I share a few words–nothing earth-shattering in importance–just words and conversation, usually things that matter to an eight-year-old.

He mentions again he needs crickets for the newly captured wild frogs, I think he’s named them Billy and Jo.

He asks again, for the thousandth time, if eggs make a person run fast.

Within minutes the meal is done, the kitchen soiled and the backpack slung on his small frame as he disappears out the door, down the road.

I stand in the chill morning air, coffee in hand, hair askew and say a blessing over him.

And I pray for more minutes, wherever we can find them, to commune with the people developing under our care, these four wild, amazing souls we call our children. And I breathe in the silence and give thanks for eggs, and boys, and the frogs named Billy and Jo.

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6 Comments

  1. I love special little traditions like this. So special. So sweet. He’ll always remember. Visiting from IP.

  2. Niki says

    This was a priceless picture. I prefer your shorter reads. You’re a great word painter, sweet Alyssa!

    Sent from my iPhonel

  3. “I stand in the chill morning air, coffee in hand, hair askew and say a blessing over him.”

    Bless your dear mothers heart!

    Janelle Marie

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