Breakfast on a school morning? Well, usually, I eat a protein bar or instant oatmeal after I get to work. And I have been known to get a pack of crackers out of the snack machine. But not this morning.
No way. Today, I cooked French Toast for the two little girls who hold my heart in their hands. As I stood in the kitchen one of them said, "Umm, I don't want flour on mine...cause last time the flour made it taste awful...and I couldn't eat it...ok, Nonna?"
You may be wondering why anyone would sprinkle flour on French Toast. I mean syrup or jelly, sure. Honey or molasses, maybe. But flour?
So, let me explain what happened the "last time" I made that delectable dish.
I dipped the bread into the egg and milk mixture. Put butter in skillet. Transferred bread from bowl into skillet. Cooked bread. Removed bread. Got clear canister containing white powder out of pantry. Sprinkled white powder onto my Perfectly Prepared French Toast.
Left my PPFT on counter to cool.
Went upstairs for something. Don't remember what.
Returned to kitchen.
Darlin' husband asks, "Why did you put flour on your FT?"
I give him a certain look. You know that kind of look, don't you, sweet girl?
The kind that says: You Have So Lost Your Mind If You Think That I Would Ever In A Million Years Put Flour On My Perfectly Prepared French Toast.
But I simply reply, "Why do you think there's flour on my PPFT?"
Darlin' hub ignoring the fact that I'm glaring at him--I mean giving him that certain look--says: "Well, I know there's flour on your FT."
Me, smugly. Because I know I absolutely Did Not put flour on my PPFT ask him: "And how do you know that?"
Darlin' says: Because I tasted it when you walked upstairs. And you put flour on your FT."
So then, I tasted my PPFT.
And it did taste awful. Because I had sprinkled flour on my PPFT. But it wasn't supposed to be flour. That white powder in the clear, unmarked canister with the blue lid looked like sugar. It should have been sugar. I thought it was powdered sugar.
But I was way wrong.
And I was way annoyed. I looked around the room to find the culprit responsible for ruining my PPFT.
I demand: "Who put flour in that clear canister with the blue lid?"
Darlin' hub vehemently denies the deed. The four-year-old and the ten-year-old reply in unison, "Not me."
Only one person remained. She was way too proud to admit that she had sabotaged her own PPFT. So she put it in a ziplock bag. Took it to work. Microwaved it. And ate the ruined, nevertheless, PPFT anyway.
And the moral of this story? Well, there are two of them.
The first comes from a guy named Micah.
He [God] has shown you, O man [and us sweet girls, too], what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God (6:8).
And the second moral is this: Either label your canister, or keep your powdered sugar in the box.
Following these guidelines should make swallowing our PPFT and our pride a little easier.
p.s. Have you ever thought you were oh so right only to discover that you were way wrong?