Sunday Breakfast

Last week, our church time switched to 2 p.m.

This means that there is PLENTY of time for breakfast before we head out (not to mention time for lunch. And a couple of snacks. And maybe a nap).

It also means that Sundays are now the prime time to make a fun breakfast and let the girls help as much as they want. Both of the older girls LOVE to cook with me, so they’re thrilled when we have a more leisurely morning and have something a little more exciting than cold cereal or plain oatmeal.

Often, they want to help when I’m making dinner and feeling the time ticking down to bedtime, so it was really delightful to have no time constraints at all and let them take all the time they wanted. I way prefer being a mom who says “yes” instead of “no” all the time.

A few days earlier, I’d told Bart, “I can’t remember the last time I made scones!”

Usually, when I make scones, I mean the real, British type scones that are like a biscuit.

But when I was growing up, scones meant fried dough drenched in honey and butter and basically my favorite breakfast on earth.

Just before we moved to North Carolina, my sister Landen had us over for breakfast and made a huge batch of them. I don’t think I’d had one since then.

So Sunday morning seemed like the perfect time to try my hand at them again.

As soon as I woke up, I made a batch of my favorite roll dough and let it rise on the counter for about thirty minutes while the girls helped me set the table.

Then I split the dough into small balls, filled a deep frying pan with about an inch of vegetable oil and heated it over medium-high heat, and let the girls go to town stretching and rolling the dough into random shapes.

(Just now, as I was writing this post, I realized it would be really fun to use cookie cutters to cut them into more fancy shapes (I have a ton of cookie cutters, but I don’t really like sugar cookies so I never use them). Next Sunday!)

They loved carefully helping to drop their dough into the oil and then watching it puff up. After a minute or so, we’d flip them over and watch the other side puff up too.

When they were cooked, we drained them on paper towels and I rolled some of them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar, which was delicious (you guys, writing this post is making me SO HUNGRY), and saved the rest for a little honey bath.

The girls were so proud of their creations and loved eating them up. And they REALLY loved that I’d picked up some Nesquik.

When Ella was about a year old, Bart gave her chocolate milk one morning and, surprise, she was a huge fan. After that, she had it every morning for the next two years.

It was pretty hard to find a brand that didn’t have any artificial colors or flavors and that was really important to me since she was drinking it every morning, so I’ve been a fan of Nesquik for years.

Bart and I still talk about how Ella would insist on counting down with the microwave when we heated it up (10, 9, 8, 7 . . ) and how she wanted to always scoop the powder in herself.

Having some on Sunday morning brought back all those memories of her being an only child and living in our little Texas apartment (although I don’t miss that cave of a kitchen too much).

After dinner, when we were sitting at the bar while Bart did the dishes, I asked everyone what their favorite part of the day was, and Bart and the two older girls all said breakfast had been the highlight of their day.

It’s such a treat to have a completely laid-back morning and I might finally start to make some progress on my Pinterest breakfast board.