Waffles with a side of attitude

{the calm before the storm}

Violet is a girl who knows what she wants and I am confident that her pluck and determination will serve her well in the long run. However, before 7:00 am I would prefer it if my daughter was a bit of a pushover.

Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day. Come to think of it breakfast is the whole Harris family’s favourite meal. (The same cannot be said of my little Pond family because the breakfast meat quotient often isn’t high enough for a certain two family members). My father religiously alternates between two breakfast options. Come to think of it, he does a lot of things religiously, but he is particularly pious with his breakfast routine, and that is saying something! Jeffrey would attest that I have adopted some of my dad’s commitment to routine. I call it dedicated. He calls it obsessive compulsion. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, right? I am happy to eat the same thing for breakfast every day of the week, every week of the year.

Don’t get me wrong, I love going out for brunch. Breakfast is my favourite meal to eat in a restaurant too. But if I am at home, I feel nurtured and soothed by my predictable morning routine. It could have something to do with the large amounts of coffee; it could have something to do with an underlying need to control everything. Either way, I am happy.

Enter Violet. Enter complete chaos.

 Violet has not inherited my family’s love of the breakfast routine, au contraire. There is no meal where my girl is more finicky than when she breaks fast. Some mornings I feel like a short order cook. When I am feeling particularly tired I admit I have allowed her to start her day with chocolate, just so I can enjoy another cup of coffee. (In my defense, the chocolate was nutella, still, not my best mummy moment). If she wakes up in the mood for pancakes on a weekday, which our tight morning schedule does not allow for, and we don’t happen to have any in our freezer, watch out world.

Violet drops to the floor. She begins to weep. I bend down to console her and try to lift her to her feet. She goes boneless.

“It is just not fair”, she wails. 

That is her go to phrase these days. That and, “I can’t take it”. It really warms a mother’s heart hearing these things from a two year old.

So, to mitigate damages, tonight Violet and I made waffles. If I was a betting woman I would say the odds are against Violet actually being in the mood for waffles tomorrow, but I don’t know what else to do.

We followed this recipe. I read a few of the comments before we began so we decided to double it up. I figure if you are making waffles, you might as well make a bunch of them. I'm sure glad I did because the first batch ended up in the compost bin (running theme). I forgot to spray the waffle iron. For the second time in less than I week I had to clean a small appliance using Q-tips... The waffles are light and fluffy, downright airy in fact. I'm used to a denser waffle but I can see why this recipe got such rave reviews; if these waffles were pancakes, they would be crepes.

{Sous Chef}

Let's hope Violet is in the mood to taste her creation tomorrow morning. I am already not in the mood to make something else!

xo

{delish}