I've Reached my Boiling Point

Egg-cellent breakfast. Two for him. One for me.

Last one in is a rotten egg...or a boiled one. We had three tag along in the car this morning. It was under the request of Prince Kaden that hard-boiled eggs were available to him for breakfast. Who died and gave him options?

What happened to cereal?
Oatmeal?
Toast?
A bagel?

Items that can be easily prepared when you are behind schedule in the morning.

Items that don't display my ability to, yes, burn water (is that possible?).

Oh, not for this guy. He wanted eggs.

I caved and slaved over the hot stove making sure his eggs were boiled to perfection. They weren't.

And get this– he doesn't even eat the yolk.

I'm hoping this is no indication of future breakfast scenarios. As a parent, you have to stand your ground and only allow your child to order what's on the menu. No special requests in this diner. The Top Chef has left the building (or never showed up in my case).

I could always make him work for his breakfast by hiding them in the house. You find them, you eat. You don't, well...ummm...

On second thought, let's not hide eggs in the house. That would bring a whole new reality to the rotten eggs thing. And that would not be a pretty site, smell, taste, etc. Let's just say that Kaden's soccer cleats were given a run for their money in the car today. Ph-ew!