It was not a particularly sunny morning - we are all coming down from colds and coughs - a week full of crank, fuss and sass (from all of us, mom/dad included.) But I did get a big laugh when Norah stopped eating breakfast, looked up at me and announced, "Mommy, I don't like the chicken in the french toast." This comment should be framed with the following intel - we ran out of our normal cracked wheat sourdough and I was using up some super healthy Quinoa bread. "Norah honey, there is not chicken in the french toast." "Hmm, well Mommy, I don't like this new french toast."
(To be honest, I don't really either even though I wish I did and wish she did, as it is so much healthier. But how do you blame a girl who's palate has been shaped by the french version - amazing sourdough bread, fried up in whole milk and butter - just absolute and complete indulgence.)
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