Hurry up.

I should win the mother of the year award. I deserve it. Mind you, I do not have to work hard at my thought processes. They are naturally odd, and raise even the sparsest of eyebrows. This morning was no different.

I decided that there were too many eggs in the fridge. I slapped the non stick pan onto the top of the stove, and started frying eggs. Three eggs for the girl, and three eggs for the boy. I threw the first eggs in, and cooked them to perfection. I know this because the Pip smiled when I delivered her surprise breakfast. The boy on the other hand is a different story. He's pokey. Double pokey. Actually, annoyingly pokey. I had cooked his eggs to just the right temp, and then kept the pan warm so he could enjoy his eggs as much as his sister enjoyed hers. I guess that works if you are not the King of Pokiness. By the time he got to his eggs they were a warm mass that reminded me of a pancake. He settled himself to the table, with the paper in front of him. and his mass of eggs. I then told him there was no time for consulting with the world leaders.. he needed to eat his eggs NOW, and to save time with all the dithering about with knives and forks... "just eat them with your hands", I told him. I am not exactly sure why I told him to eat with his hands, plus in this house we do have forks. But the important thing was that he went with it.... ate his eggs, then we laughed about it after. I am still wondering about my thought process.