Growing up, my dad would often cook breakfast on Sundays. It certainly wasn't gourmet. Often, he just made pancakes from a mix, or he'd fry up some eggs and make some toast. Whatever it was, I loved it when my dad made breakfast on the weekends. When the Munchkin was little, I started cooking breakfast on Sundays, and I loved it just as much. It was usually either pancakes or waffles, as he loves both of those. I had moved past the pancake mix stage of life, but will readily admit that my fallback recipes come from an old Betty Crocker cookbook that my grandmother gave me. One Sunday while I was pregnant with Sprout, I just didn't feel like cooking breakfast. My mom picked Munchkin up a little early (he usually spends part of Sunday at my parents' house) and they stopped by McDonald's to pick up breakfast. It was all over after that. He only wanted McD's for his Sunday breakfast. At the time, I didn't have the energy to protest, so I let it go. And it
baking, blogging and trying to stay sane