Earlier this week I was browsing through my blog, looking for inspiration for an eighth grade yearbook ad. Maybe I’ll find a brief little story that hits that sweet spot of short, funny, and not cringe, Mom. Hmmm, what’s this one called 2025?…
Clearly I’m clairvoyant. Thirteen years later and Hungry Nate is rifling through the pantry as I write this. Though instead of frozen pizzas, it’s quesadillas with sour cream and Tajine. Maybe because I never buy frozen pizzas.
“Hey Nate, if I bought frozen pizzas, do you think you’d make them and eat them?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“You do?”
“Easily, yeah.”
So I went to bed early last night and just as I was dozing off, I heard a shrill beeping sound. I sat up with a start. Then decided in was just the boys downstairs and went back to sleep. This morning I discovered Nate had made himself two pieces of chocolate toast after dinner.
This morning I offer to make him breakfast.
“One or two pieces of toast? One egg or two?”
“Two pieces of toast. Four pieces of eggs.”
“What? You want four eggs?”
“Yeah.”
2025… right on cue.