I recently started getting up early to work out. Some of you who have known me for many years may find this strange, as I've always preferred staying up late to getting up early. However, I've discovered that I enjoy the peace that comes with getting up before anyone else in my house is awake.
A couple of weekends ago, I left the house to work out on a Saturday morning and didn't make it home before the troops were up and screaming for breakfast. In our house, there is a division of labor that goes something like this: Taxes=J, laundry=me, dishes=J, answering any uncomfortable questions our children may ask=me. It works for us, and the fixing of meals usually falls squarely on my shoulders as well. Not that J can't cook. He makes a mean Kraft macaroni and cheese, and his PB&Js are nothing to sneeze at, but to my knowledge, he's never cooked anything that involves measuring or doesn't come directly from a jar or box.
This particular Saturday morning, J was feeling ambitious and decided to try scrambled eggs. He's watched me do this dozens of times, and felt that he was up to the challenge (kudos to him for trying something new.) He dished up the eggs and set them in front of R, and then eagerly awaited his reaction. R took one look at his plate and said, "At least they're yellow Dad."
Maybe he has a future in motivational speaking.
