Learning My Place (or, The Waffle Story)

My entire audience (that is, my cousin Sheri - hi, Sheri!) has made a deal with me and my side of that deal is to spend more time writing. I'm taking this deal because the whole world will be a better place when she fulfills her side of it.

I offer this as the first installment. Since I'm not particularly creative, I'll be digging up an old story. It won't be the last time.

At about midnight one night several  years ago, I was just getting into bed when 3 year-old Molly stepped quietly into the room and asked, "Dad, would you carry me down the stairs and make me a waffle with syrup on a plate and milk?"

"No, sweetheart. It's midnight and time for bed. Go lay down and you can have a waffle in the morning."

"Please, Daddy? I'm hungry! Please make me a waffle with syrup on a plate and milk!"

"Sweetie, go to bed. I have to get up early."

"Can I ask Momma?"

Ri is a light sleeper and will pop out of bed like a flash when she hears the sound of a child getting sick. But there is no way on this green earth she will pop out of bed to prepare meals in the middle of the night. It's just not going to happen. Everyone knows that. So I answered, "Sure, go ahead."

Molly grabbed the side of the bed, crawled over my head, leaned in and quietly whispered, "Momma?"

"Hmph?" replied Ri, half opening one eye."

"Can Daddy go downstairs and make me a waffle?"

"What?!" I yelped, half sitting up in disbelief.

"Sure, baby; he'd love to."

"Yay! Let's go, Daddy! Momma said yes!" exclaimed a delighted Molly as she wrapped her arms around my neck for a piggy-back ride downstairs.

She did get her waffle; I just had to reward the out-of-the-box thinking.