Breakfast Writing Contest Winner
BreakfastGuy on Feb 5th 2010
Congratulations to Nikki Harding, our contest winner. Her charming story about taking her son to FlavourSpot for waffles will appear in that section of the second edition of Breakfast in Bridgetown. And she’ll get two autographed copies of the book — assuming I ever get my act together and write it.
Special thanks to Mindie Kniss of Kniss Integrative Coaching and “dieselboi” of FoodCartsPortland.com for serving as judges.
And now, for your reading pleasure, is our winning entry:
It’s a wonderfully cold and drizzly Portland morning. My son awakes and shuffles into my room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Good morning Mommy. Waffles?”
This is his daily salutation. Once every couple of weeks I indulge him. We dress quickly and warmly to make our way to “Happy Waffles” or more commonly known as Flavor Spot. He runs to the window and immediately places his order.
“Hot chocolate please?”
We argue over what we want in our waffle. He is two and a half and has impeccable persuasion skills. He wants sausage, I want bacon. He tells me he loves sausage more than Bubba (our dog). We order a sausage waffle.
At this point it’s raining. Drinking our coffee and chocolate in the rain, smelling the griddle as it creates our masterpiece, I suggest we eat it at home.
“No. It tastes better in the rain.”
We grab our order. The incessant giggling begins. Profuse thank you’s are given. More giggling. He sits on the wet bench with his napkin and in a maniacally excited voice screams, “I’m ready!”
We eat in silence for a minute. In between bites he giggles and tells me he is so happy. He sings to his waffle. He tells it how delicious it is. He asks if he can give some to the dog when we get home. He takes the one carefully selected bite, wraps it up in the leftover paper and we head back to the car. On the car ride home, he tells me he loves me more than waffles. I tell him I love him more than waffles. We get out of the car, get inside the toasty house and call to bubba for his treat. I tell my son to hand it over. He looks at me, smiles and says, “I ate it.”
