Sunday Morning Breakfast

Mike doesn't cook. Sure, he can make boxed macaroni and cheese (kinda), or toast waffles and heat up syrup, but his cooking skills are not the best. Occasionally he will offer to help me in the kitchen, usually grating cheese or setting the table (okay, not cooking, but still). We always joke that he would starve if I wasn't around, and we often wonder what he did before I was here to feed him. Mostly, he ate out, or simply didn't eat. Yeah, I know. 

On his days off we will usually sleep in, then I'll get up and start breakfast. The breakfast of choice lately has been eggs and "country-fried potatoes" (according to Mike). This morning I thought we would do things differently and I would teach Mike how to make breakfast. We always joke/worry that once Ava is old enough to eat people food Mike won't be able to feed her if I'm not around. He defends himself by saying "the dads are supposed to be the cool ones that order pizza". Riiight. So onto breakfast we went. 

I pulled everything out for him and set it up. I washed the potato, got out the eggs, oil, spices, cutting board, pan, knife, and spatula. I walked him through each step. I showed him how to heat the pans, and flip the potatoes without smushing them. He was doing great! Next came the eggs, which were a little trickier. He hesitated only when it came time to actually flip the egg. After I demonstrated how to flip the first one, he did the next two perfectly. The only thing he wouldn't touch was my ham, so I had to grill that myself. Hey, as long as he made the rest of it, who cares. 

I set the table while he served up the plates. I was surprised, his breakfast looked almost better than mine. But then I thought, wait a minute, now that he knows how to make breakfast...next is dinner!