Breakfast

My mom made breakfast this morning. It was a wonderful omelette, potato and onion skillet creation. It was so good!

Mia was unconvinced. She's been unconvinced about everything that we've offered her to eat on this trip. She's pretty sure that she's about to be poisoned a la MacBeth or Juliet. Playing into her suspicion this morning is the fact that I rarely cook eggs. (I have a suspicious relationship with eggs ever since I was pregnant with Maggie and went to Laughlin with Rebecka, ate two eggs over medium at 10 p.m. and threw them up at 3 a.m. I just can't move past it.)

Mia saw the breakfast being dished out and hunted me down to ask if she had to eat it. I said yes and her face clouded up and her nose wrinkled.

"Why do you keep giving me food that looks ugly and tastes good?!" she screeched as she backed away.

I rejoined my mom and sister in the kitchen and we got a good chuckle out of that. Mia then hunted my sister down and started to sob because she didn't want to eat that breakfast. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. At this point, after fighting major battles three times a day for two weeks, she can starve.

A small amount of time passed and my mom walked by Mia. Mia gestured for her grandma to lean close and whispered:

"I ate one bite and it was a little bit yummy."

And that's all we have to say about that.