This morning we woke up before the sun. The air was slightly chilly and the house was still and quiet, so the kids chose to climb into the warmth of our big bed for a cuddle before it was time to get up for real. The kind of for real that says “if you don’t get up now, you’ll be late for band practice.”
So we got up.
The sky was just taking on a tinge of lightness, but the sun was nowhere to be seen, covered by clouds and the slow drift of snowflakes.
It felt peaceful.
But it also felt cold. Not a terribly cold day (since on truly bitter mornings, the air is too cold for clouds), but the ordinary sort of grey-white flaky cold that compells one to reach for a sweater or a thick pair of woolen socks and seek out the company of others.
Since outdoors was the opposite of warm and comfy, and since (with the furnace turned down a bit) the inside was too, I decided to make a hot breakfast for everyone. To my great surprise, they turned down pancakes in favour of oatmeal.
No breakfast in the world compares to a bowl of oatmeal hot off the stove with a dollop of brown sugar and a bit of milk on a day like today. It doesn’t take a lot to fill you up and leave your belly warm and satisfied, and the little hint of sweetness can’t help but put a smile on your cheeks.
Pancakes are delicious too, especially when we’re having breakfast for dinner with pancakes, sausages, and brown beans with molasses mixed in, but oatmeal is just… well, oatmeal, and today was the perfect day for it.
K devoured his bowl in seconds and immediately started searching for seconds. His shoulders fell when he discovered that I hadn’t made extra, but when I suggested he poach himself an egg, he declined.
“I don’t need any more breakfast. I’m full. I just wanted more oatmeal,” he informed me with a funny little smile.
Oh, how I love that boy’s funny little smile!
He headed off to band practice under that cold grey-white sky, and then an hour later (after B read the first chapter of Robert Ballard’s book on finding the Titanic to me), B and I walked the long way around to school while snowflakes fell on our heads and landed on our tongues and cheeks and eyelashes, and then I came home and saw The Man We Call Dad off to work with a kiss and a smile.
But the sky was still grey-white and the house was still cold. It needed something… but what?
A moment’s thought gave me the perfect answer:
A lovely loaf or two of farmhouse bread with a mixture of whole wheat and rye flours, and a sprinkling of sunflower seeds for good measure.
Grains are the perfect cure for a day like today. Grains, and sleepy morning cuddles.