The hubs has often said that I "spoil" my kids by going the extra mile with regards to food preparation. I've mostly ignored the double-edged compliment until Sean's verbal prediction that "Daddy is going to make us cereal for breakfast everyday while Mommy is in New York City", which promptly elicited 3 little people groans at the breakfast table. I then realised how truly "spoilt" they are to expect nothing less than a varied breakfast menu for the week!
So, sue me. I love food and I love my kids. I love that my kids love (OK, I exaggerate, it should be "like on most occasions") my meals. I would happily forgo that extra half-hour of sleep on a Saturday morning just so that I can make them their favourite pancakes. I’m happy to wake early Mondays to Fridays to prepare them healthy bento lunches for school. I might even try to recreate (some) foods that they like that they can't readily get.
I'd even ensure that cereal isn't the only breakfast food made available to them on school days.
I know that all this -- like every parent's thankless tasks -- will go unnoticed and there will not be a rousing applause much less a shiny gold plaque of achievement to hang on my bare walls. But for every sleepless Saturday morning that I'd to drag my limp body out of bed, I'm hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might one day reminiscence -- as they chew on a freshly made pancake -- how (feel free to add lauding adjectives here) Mom used to make them pancakes every Saturday morning and even on holidays.
Just as I have remembered with utmost detail that one Saturday morning when my Dad made us french toast instead of my much detested daily breakfast of semi-raw eggs. The taste and aroma of those golden pieces of white bread sweetened with condensed milk have stayed with me right to this day.
On that note, thank you Dad and I love you!
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