I am not really sleeping well. Waking up at 3 in the morning, and I cannot get back to sleep. Normally, not a problem, I just go into the other room. Not with Wendy and Claire, though. I just have to come out here and watch television. Not the best selection at this hour. On Saturday morning, however, I did stretch out on the couch and got some extra zzzzs in.
This is not is what is wrong.
Rather, I was woken up by Courtney in the kitchen. Courtney,in MY kitchen. This is a real problem, a disaster in the making. Which is why Courtney, Megan, and Aisha are not allowed in my kitchen, while Wendy is always welcome. Courtney, it turns out, is trying to make Megan breakfast in bed. While I have brought them breakfast in bed, they have never made it for each other. So, either Megan has been very good or Courtney very bad.
"How do you make waffles?" she asked, as I walked over to make sure Courtney does not burn the place down.
"With a waffle iron."
"Where is it?"
"We do not have one."
A concerned look. "What should I tell her?"
"Just ask her how many pancakes she wants." At this point, I start making the batter. The girls prefer Hungry Jack's mix to my made from scratch, which is fine with me.
"How many is a stick?"
"Three," I respond, pouring out three onto the griddle. "Does she want butter? Bacon or sausage?"
Courtney ducks back into her bed room. "Butter, but no bacon or sausage."
There are three responses a woman might give you if you ask her for bacon or sausage. If she says "bacon," she gets bacon. If she says "sausage," she gets sausage. If she says "neither," she gets both. I flip the pancakes, and I tell her to put a pat of butter on each, which she just manages. I turn the oven on to 200, to keep the pancakes warm, while I finish the meat. I tell Courtney to get the syrup, and she grabs Aunt Jemima, which Aisha likes. "No, Megan is from New England, she will want this." I pull out a bottle of Connecticut pure maple syrup, ask Courtney to pour a cup out. She can pour things. I plate the meat and pancakes, heat the cup of syrup in the microwave, and pour it into the little syrup dispenser.
Disaster averted.
Which was nothing like what the girls got today. Wendy and I were on fire. I bought a waffle iron, and a lot of eggs and Canadian bacon. I left butter out to soften. Eggs were poached, hollandaise sauce was made. Waffles were made, eggs were scrambled. Not just any eggs, Dad's Special Eggs. Lots of butter. When there is too much butter, add more. Johnny's Seasoning Salt, out of Tacoma, Washington, is the best in the world, a few shakes of Frank's Red Hot. Bacon and sausage, two. Pity I cannot find natural case sausage.
So, when we brought Aisha and Claire waggles, Eggs Benedict, my father's special eggs, bacon, and sausage. Claire asked "What did we do to rate this?"
Wendy answered quickly "This is for letting us lick your vaginas."
Megan and Courtney got the same. Then Wendy and I ate.
It struck me that it has been literal years since I have gone down on Courtney. She promised Megan breakfast, and I made it, bailing her out. Does that not deserve cunnilingus? She should let me gone down on her for an hour or so. No mercy. I get to lick her good parts until I am finished.
Yes, I deserve it. I know that. Since I do, probably best not to mention it to her.
Claire changed her hair.