One unsolved mystery of life is how I, a man who never salts his food and thinks eating is a chore, ended up with your mother, an exceptional and appreciative cook. The mystery is complicated by the fact that your mother runs a breakfast/brunch blog (The Worktop) while I normally don’t even bother thinking about breakfast let alone eat it.
However, before the days of your mom as a creative, she would have to get up at 7 to have enough time to get ready and make herself breakfast. It got difficult seeing her come home disjointed, walking around like a sleep-deprived zombie, so I started getting up with her to cook her oatmeal while she got ready, which meant she could get thirty more minutes of sleep.
I thought it became an unspoken rule that whoever didn’t have to rush off to work would make breakfast, so when we moved to London, I assumed the tables would turn because I would now be the one getting up for work.
Your mom would wake up with me, but because it only takes me ten minutes to get from the bed to the the front door, that didn’t leave her any time to make breakfast. That was just how it was and I didn’t mind at all because I normally didn’t eat breakfast anyway.
It is your Aunt Carol who I should be thanking for how things are now, which is me walking out the door for work with a smoothie in hand. Your Uncle Derek (Aunt Carol’s husband) was telling me how in love he was and mentioned in passing that she would wake up to make him breakfast, which is quite a feat because he leaves for work at 5AM! During one of those nights in bed when your mother wouldn’t stop talking, I mentioned this story to her, which she took as ‘inspiration’ to start a new trend.
Your mother recently suggested she should start taking breakfast pictures for her blog on the bed instead of on her usual tabletop – it would be more distinctive, she said. I chortled and playfully (or so I thought) said, “You struggle to make a smoothie cup for me in the morning, how are you going to do a full breakfast in bed???”
What happened the very next day shouldn’t surprise me, but I woke up to your mother standing next to the bed with a tray in her hands that had my customary mug of green tea and smoothie cup, in addition to a delicious-looking fried egg. Naturally, being the clean Catson that I am, I had a good laugh, thanked her, and then shooed her out the room in fear I would make a mess and the egg smell would stick to our sheets.
I never seem to learn, but never doubt your mother because she’s a very capable woman. The only time you should doubt her is when you want her to do something.