When I was little, I liked to eat waffles frozen. They tasted better to me than when they were warm. A few years ago when Will was in full day preschool, we were usually dashing out the door right at 8:30, and one day, realizing I hadn’t given him breakfast but he was going to be too late for breakfast at school, I handed him a frozen waffle to eat in the car.
It was such a good solution that I started doing it more often.
Nic was horrified and thought it was one of the most hobo things I’ve ever done. No Good Mother would ever hand her kid a frozen waffle and call it good.
Well, his complete disgust at the whole idea turned frozen waffles into the most exotic of forbidden treats in Will’s eyes. So that when we have waffles in the house, Will will come up to me, as he did this morning, and lean in conspiratorially and whisper “Can I have my waffle cold? They’re the best cold.”
And that is how Nic turned the easiest hobo breakfast in the world into the most exotic delicacy.
Now if only I could get him to do the same thing for leftovers…
