photos at Boat Street Cafe
Over the course of the past several weeks, we've developed a routine, weeknight conversation, Abbott and me. It goes something like this. 'Mom, what are we having for breakfast tomorrow?' I do a quick mental calculation of what we have in the house, and what the next morning will entail. If I say 'eggs' or 'cereal', that's the end of it. If I say, 'baked oatmeal', or 'french toast' or 'pancakes', he reminds me to leave out the recipe for him. Then, when he wakes up, usually while Cal and I are still sleeping, and Alexi is getting ready for work, he gets the day started for us. He sets the table first, and puts gummi vites at his and Cal's spots. Sometimes he unloads the dishwasher. He gets out the ingredients, skillet or baking dish, and any needed utensils, and clears the counter next to the range, in order to have a free work space. Then, he settles in with a book, or homework, or practices the piano, until I come downstairs. We say our good mornings, and get to work. We've got our rhythm worked out. I slice the fruit and pack lunches, while he makes the breakfast.