Biscuits and Bacon

This morning, I got the rare opportunity for a real morning off. This is a rare treat, and by the time I got up, Penny had already fed the kiddos, so I relaxed with a cup of java, and eventually started to cook a couple of biscuits and a few slices of bacon. And that's when the climate changed...

Isn't it amazing how the sound of the oven opening can bring the cattle runnin'?! It reminds me of walking out to feed cattle when I was a little boy with my grandfather in East Texas. I would always be amazed that all we had to do was quietly slide the metal slide to unlock the gate, and cattle from the far reaches of the ranch would perk up, look our way, and begin the long walk to the feed lot.

It wasn't long before the question came, "Daddy, can I have a biscuit?" Now this from a little boy who had already devoured a full breakfast. And not long after, his sister focused in on the bacon. At this point I had a choice to make, my bacon and my biscuits, or the fellowship of my children who want to be with me and enjoy what I enjoy. Do you ever wish you didn't have to make those choices?!

Can we not have the biscuits, the bacon, and the love?! The answer is, quite honestly, "no."

The biscuits came out (yes, they were the last two), and I split one between the kids, buttering each half and adding jelly instead of the beautiful dab of honey I had been tasting in my mind. Then I took some of the last few pieces of bacon and distributed them to the not-hungry troops who wanted to eat what I was about to eat. Somewhere in there, the memories of eating Daddy's favorite breakfast food on a rare morning off became more entertaining than the solace filled sensation of fresh biscuits and bacon.

Right now, they're literally climbing over me as I type here on the couch, JeeP directs who gets to wear my hat, and Jordan directs whose turn it is with the flash light. It's better than the quiet, even though I still have fond memories of quiet moments. I know there will come a day when there is too much quiet, and something tells me to soak this up. In a minute, the kids will ask me to read aloud to them what I've written, and our morning o' fun will continue.

I've traded a biscuit and some bacon to become a jungle-gym memory maker... it's a good trade.

Well, it's time to read.

Lesson for the day: trade the bacon, the opportunity is only for a moment!

Wishing you the joy of inconvenient play,

John