The other day I was trundling round what the Germans laughingly insist on calling a supermarket, looking for breakfast goodies. We were due to have a couple of friends over for breakfast (I know...all a bit middle class but they do that here). Head down, fully concentrated on the task in hand, I had secured marinated herring, various cured meats, a selection of cheeses and a veritable mountain of bread rolls before it hit me. Looking in my trolley not a baked bean or strip of bacon in sight. And then the realisation,
"WAIT! You are becoming one of them!"
It was quite the epiphany really.
Not that I mind you understand, but some things are sacred. So, whilst our guests sipped away at their coffee I demolished a pint mug of strong PG Tips.
Finje must have somehow been inspired by the whole event and surprised the heck out of us the following morning. Our daughter has an inbuilt alarm clock that wakes her every morning at 7am with what can only be described as impressive German efficiency. All quite splendid until it's competences extend to Sunday mornings. Last Sunday however, waking from my slumber, mentally preparing myself for the whirlwind that is Finje at that ungodly hour, I thought heard a gentle whisper close to my ear:
"Mama, breakfast is ready."
"Breakfast is on the table, come on get up! Come on."
"Oh.....erm.....please" (The epitome of polite our child)
Could this be true? I doubted it. It was more than likely some cruel (but admittedly canny) trick to get me out of bed on a Sunday morning. She has a repertoire of stratagems to achieve this goal. It's not unknown for her to feign ill health or tell me that the cat has caught a dragon (that one failed). Anyway, I was awake, so I woke my husband (yes I am that selfish) and we trundled downstairs.
And there it was. Breakfast, according to the World of Finje. Three bowls, two weetabix in each, three spoons, three cups and cocoa.
The child who has been driving me to distraction the last few weeks with the word "NO" every time I asked her to lift a finger to help, had made us breakfast. I was quite overcome. And the best thing?
Not a marinated herring in sight!
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