A typical Sunday morning in our house involves lots of family cuddling and tickling in our bed and a long discussion about what to eat. Inevitable whatever we choose to eat, I’m the one to cook since my husband has limited cooking experience. This morning the conversation was weighing in favor of eating waffles at the local breakfast joint until we saw how gray and gloomy it is outside. I was bummed because I really didn’t want to cook anything and my husband told me he would take care of it. He grabbed the kiddo and left me to snooze a little longer.
And this is what I saw when I got out of bed.
Well color me shocked! There was butter, flour, baking soda, baking powder, and butter on the counter and the mister was busily mixing something in a bowl as he read directions from one of my favorite cookbooks. I asked him what he was doing and he nonchalantly replied: “oh, just making biscuits, why don’t you go play with S.” And my mind could not process that my non-cooking and non-baking husband was making biscuits from scratch.
So I did as he told me and I played with S.
But all she wanted to do was run away from me.
To the sanctuary that is her Daddy’s legs.
And to help out I decided to cook some mushrooms and scramble some eggs because one cannot live off of biscuits alone.
Meanwhile S. and her daddy finished off the biscuit dough by brushing them with melted butter.
10 minutes later we had this. What a happy Sunday!
Who Ate My Tomato? 