Long ago and not so far away, I decided to surprise Tim for his birthday by bringing him breakfast in bed...and I have been banned from making breakfast ever since. (hehehe)
It was his first birthday after we had gotten married, and I wanted it to be special, so I racked my brain for ideas. A rose petal strewn coverlet? Chilled champagne and strawberries? A candlelit dinner with softly playing violins in the background? A little something secret from Victoria's? Scrambled eggs in a toast cup? Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!
I mean, really, what says I love you more than "the incredible, edible egg" floating in a toasted cup made of Wonder Bread? It just screams romance and celebration.
So I got up early, snuck out into the kitchen and transformed into a cross between Martha Stewart and the Barefoot Contessa. I mixed and cut and buttered and stirred, until I had produced a feast fit for a king, served up in such a way that the Iron Chefs would have been gnashing their teeth out of jealousy.
Setting my creation on the tray complete with artfully folded napkin ( I had mastered the difficult triangle shape in preparation for the big day), I breezed into the bedroom and set the meal before my victim, er, love of my life with a flourish.
"Um, what is this?" I remember Tim peering down at the tray, poking the food gingerly with his fork as though it might poke back.
"Breakfast," I informed him, pleased with my creative use of breakfast food and a muffin tin. Had the Food Network been around then, I felt sure they would have come knocking at my door. Maybe not.
"I know it's supposed to be breakfast," Tim jabbed at it again, a little harder this time, and watched closely for any signs of aggression. "But what is it actually made from? Anything I might recognize?"
"It's a scrambled egg in a nest.". This was not going quite as I had envisioned it.
In my scenario, Tim was supposed to be scarfing down the sumptuous repast I had lovingly slaved over while gazing at me adoringly. Instead, he was shrinking back away from the plate as though it contained some sort of mutant creature that might suddenly lunge for his throat at any moment, while eyeing me suspiciously as though he suspected I may have taken out a really large life insurance policy on him.
"No, really. What did you do to the, um, okay, we'll call it an egg?" Tim apparently decided I had sufficiently wounded it to the point where he could safely gather some of it up on his fork. Although he did hold it at arms length just to be on the safe side. "Is it cooked?"
"No. I served you a raw egg." Birthday or not, there was only so much I could take. Hmm, maybe Vickey's would have been a safer choice. I mean, would he actually have said, "Black? Lace? Really? What were you thinking?"
"Well, it just looks a little...undercooked. And what is this cup made of?". He banged the side of my cute little toast cup with the knife like he was kicking the tire of a used car he suspected might break down after he drove it five feet.
Note to self: next year, go with the rose petals, because apparently he would find them more appetizing than my current offering. At least he wouldn't be looking at them as though they might do him some bodily harm.
"For your information, the eggs are cooked perfectly. They are not supposed to resemble a rubber product from the Acme gag gift catalogue, which is how you apparently like them. And I'll thank you to stop chipping away at the toast as though you were trying to tunnel your way out of Sing-Sing."
"Okay. Okay. I was just saying..." Tim took a deep breath and gamely shoveled a forkful into his mouth...and then gagged. "Nope. Can't do it, " he gasped, reaching for the juice and downing it as though it was the last vial of anti-venom on the planet.
"Fine." I grabbed the tray. "That's the last time I'm making you breakfast."
"Can I have that in writing?" he called after me as he scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom for his toothbrush, paste, Listerine, Scope and Clorox. "Seriously. I'm not saying that just to be nice."
And so, this morning, for his birthday, I gave him the gift he wanted more than anything...no breakfast.
And we all lived happily ever after.
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