The Waffle Debacle (with a side of French Toast Taunter)
“And in the dream there were waffles in the freezer. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. So I knew exactly what I would have this morning,” says Rissa as she comes down the stairs.
“Hmmmm?” I’m on Facebook. The way I used to be able to split my focus – pre-internet? That no longer exists. The noise of Rissa opening and closing the refrigerator a few moments later seeps into my consciousness and I look up. I hear the word ‘breakfast.’ “Pardon?”
“Have you eaten breakfast?”
“No. Un-unh.” I was planning on having a granola bar with some soy milk – I remain in post-holiday food recovery. But when I see the egg container in her hand, my stomach betrays me. “Are you making scrambled eggs?”
Rissa looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Mummy. French Toast. I am making FRENCH TOAST. I had a whole back story about it. You weren’t listening.”
“I did hear the waffle bit…” I say apologetically. This not-listening of mine is happening more and more. The other night I was reading as David was talking, and I didn’t hear a word of what he said. Not a single word. In my defense, I did recognize that noises could be heard in the room. Plus I was reading Harry Potter at the time.
I hurt his feelings. He actually huffed at me – turned his head away from me even. I had to do some major emotional back-pedalling. Shit! Maybe this is becoming a thing – the not-listening. Is this a pre-cursor to early-onset dementia? Between this and not being to remember people’s last names and proper nouns – I’m pretty much fucked.
Rissa’s still talking. “I had to console myself with French Toast… (tuned out) “You and Daddy can fight over the last egg guck.”
“Hmmm? Egg guck?”
“I lied. There wasn’t as much egg guck as I thought. So I used it up.” She shows me the empty bowl with egg and cinnamon residue on it.
“So basically you’re a French Toast Taunter?”
“I didn’t mean to be. It just happened. Plus, you didn’t care about my waffle debacle – AT ALL – really you’re getting what you deserve.” Mic Drop. That’s my girl.