Groundhog Day

For breakfast I made two slices of Health Nut toast, spread with a veneer of organic peanut butter and drizzled with clover honey. I served it in the family room. May finished hers quickly while I took a more leisurely pace. As soon as I finished, she picked up her plate and reached for mine and asked, "Would you like some more?" as if this had been her production all along. My first touchy situation of the day. I decided to play along.

"Thank you," I said, "I'd love another piece." I had a line of sight to the kitchen so I watched to see where she might get stuck. I saw her plunge a knife into the jar of peanut butter and thought, oh no, I'm not eating this on untoasted bread!

I ran for the kitchen, only to find that no bread at all was involved in this procedure. Holding a glob of peanut butter on the end of a knife, she was staring down at an empty kitchen counter. "I can't make heads or tails of this," she said. I said, "I know. The bread's in the pantry." She yielded the kitchen to me and I made us a second serving of breakfast.

Back in the family room, as I chewed my last bite, she reached for my plate and said, "Would you like some more?"