Sunday, May 20, 2012

The Toast Thief

A couple of weeks ago my husband and I were away celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary.  On our first morning, we decided to partake in the hotel's breakfast buffet.  It appeared to be a decent spread and, most importantly, there was a good-sized staff working hard to keep everything replenished and fresh.  

My husband put a piece of bread in the toaster, grabbed a cup of coffee, and sat down to wait while his toast, well, toasted.  He heard the tell tale, "Pop" and went to check it. Not being exactly how he likes it, he put in back in to toast for a bit longer.  Sensing that it was done, he grabbed a plate and went to retrieve it.  In front of him stood a boy who appeared to be about 6 years old.  My husband, anticipating the toast popping out of the toaster, began to reach out his hand…but he wasn't quite fast enough!  For just as his hand was about to connect with the toast, the little boy in front of him snatched it!  

My husband returns to our table and jokes, "That little punk over there stole my toast."  He relayed the "toast thief" story to me and we shared a good chuckle.  And then we decided to watch the boy.  Because that's what happens when you've been married so long.  Your idea of entertainment involves the buffet habits of a 6-year old!

So we're watching the kid…and on his plate, along with my husband's toast, are a couple of pieces of fruit.  A nice breakfast choice that his parents would certainly be proud of.  Except, of course, his parents were nowhere to be seen. My guess is they were probably hiding from him so that he wouldn't steal their food, too!

Anyway…on top of my husband's toast, and the fruit, the boy proceeds to pile on a muffin AND a croissant.  We both look at each other and instantly know that we are thinking the exact same thing, "Ain't no way that kid's eating all that food."  The kid then goes to sit down next to his sister…but instead of sitting down to eat his enormous pile of food, he sets his plate down, STANDS UP, and heads over to the cereal counter, where he pours himself a Mt. Whitney-sized mountain of Froot Loops!  Meanwhile, my husband's once perfect, now soggy and buried, piece of toast sits just a few feet away from us, taunting my husband.  

The boy FINALLY sits down to eat.  He's eating so slowly that I swear he's eating that bowl of cereal one loop at a time.  Before he finished the cereal, which, at the rate he was going would have certainly taken him until lunch, and way before he began to tackle the croissant, the muffin, my husband's piece of toast, AND the fruit, my husband and I, having finished our meal (and feeling that holding in the magnitude of laughter we were currently stifling could, in fact, be hazardous to our health) took one final look at the boy's plate, exited the dining area, and laughed all the way back to our room! 

Here's the deal, I actually felt kind of sorry for that kid. My husband is an amazing cook who can make even a simple thing like toast taste out of this world.  And, really, I should have thanked him…because, after all, he did give us a great laugh AND a good story to tell, and, well, what's better than that?

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