In the long country kitchen, Dad sits at the head of the large dining table drinking coffee while Mom serves his breakfast. He’s the first one to leave every morning. Cecil is just too cheery for him, so he eats fast trying to get out of the house before Cecil arrives!
Passing by Randy on the way out, the milkman walks through the side door as usual picking up a piece of bacon off the platter and getting a quick inventory in the refrigerator of milk, buttermilk, butter, cream and eggs. He is part of the early morning routine three days a week. With his British accent he’s always cheerful and happy. He brings in the order placing everything in the refrigerator, drops the charge ticket on the counter and leaves as quickly as he came in. I love the familiar aroma of homemade biscuits that fill our house as Heather and I get dressed for school.
Back to the kitchen, Heather is stretching her independence a bit when talking to the boys. “Go give it to Sally – I mean Mom.” She really likes bossing around the youngest one. His name is Bobby, but we just call him Grunt. Clue, he doesn’t talk much yet! I told Mom he doesn’t have to, all he does is point and grunt and somebody gets what he wants.
Sally reprimands, “You know Bobby can’t be running around the kitchen when I’m cooking breakfast.” The older boys have their things ready for school and are setting the table.
Mom takes off to the bedroom shouting orders, “Jane, fix their plates, I have to get going or I’ll be late for work. Heather, put Bobby’s shoes on him.” Five minutes later, Mom comes out, scoops up Bobby and is out the door.
Whew, I’m hungry! The four of us sit down to eat a leisurely twenty minute breakfast, before we leave to walk to our schools. If we don’t get the kitchen cleaned before we leave, it will wait until we get home from school … ouch! Dried eggs on plates …