I like eating long breakfasts with my children, those that start not in a flurry when we first wake but rather about a half an hour later, when our bellies more often begin to rumble. I like being able to make a breakfast from ingredients--cook a pot of oatmeal with walnuts and raisins, toast bread and have a fat pat of butter melt on it, fry up some bacon and then cook down greens or peppers and onions in some of the leftover grease, poach a couple of eggs in wilted kale or chard with garlic, whir together coconut milk, strawberries, bananas, ice and a drop of vanilla extract.
But sometimes, there is excitement about the day before's food that carries on into the morning, such as there was on January 14, the day after Fox turned 3. Naturally, that breakfast started with a square of birthday cake for each of us.
I think breakfast is my favorite meal of the day to do. It's unhurried and uncomplicated. It's eaten at the table with the toy that first captured the boys' attentions when they woke up, or sometimes sitting together at the TV finishing off last night's movie or an episode of Sponge Bob. We talk about the day's plans. Woody usually wants to know if we are going anywhere, and if so where, for what purpose, or with whom. He sometimes suggests activities or books or friends we might call. We discuss.
Then, when the meal is over, I do the dishes and they go play. I get my bearings during this time, as I wash: dress boys, brush teeth, pack diaper bag, take out compost, etc. This rhythm works out well for me. It helps me to wake up relaxed and open rather than worried and driven. I do better thinking after a little food and good company, anyway.
When my children are grown up and moved on with their lives, I think I will miss the morning meals together more than the dinners. I think I will miss the joy and sweetness of waking up all together, feeling the day stretched out before us full of opportunities, beginning with an easy rhythm of connect-play-prepare-eat-be glad.