The door to my six-year-old’s room burst open and he bounced into the living room. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?” I asked, sitting on the couch. 

“I want to make eggs!” he declared.

As a culinary school graduate and former professional cook, my husband has been teaching the kids how to cook. Sometimes their enthusiasm for it borders on the inconvenient, since they want to be involved in cooking every pot of Kraft Mac and cheese and stirring every bowl of microwave oatmeal.

But lately, it’s been paying off. My older son has gotten really into making himself scrambled eggs for breakfast – albeit under our supervision. 

As it was a weekend with nowhere to be in the morning, he had plenty of time. 

“Okay, sounds good.” I walked into the kitchen and guided him through the process, supervising the transfer of eggs to pan, then eggs to plate. 

As he walked over to the table balancing his plate, I realized I was starving. Between getting my younger son breakfast and supervising the egg making process, I hadn’t eaten anything myself. “Ugh, I haven’t had breakfast yet,” I grumbled. I asked my husband, “Chris, can you make me an egg sandwich?” 

But Chris wasn’t the one who answered. My older son piped up, “I can make you an egg sandwich!” 

“Oh, that would be lovely. Thanks,” I said, smiling. A little sniffle snuck in there too. 

The last few days before that morning had been rough. Coming off of the stress and excitement of Thanksgiving to plunge into the stress and excitement of the Christmas season had been tiring for all of us. On top of that, it felt like we had been moving backwards on some behavioral issues we were grappling with. Neither of us were happy with each other; we both knew it.

So I didn’t expect this gesture at all. He reached out to me, with no pretense or expectation. It was all of his own accord. It was both as simple and complex as a loving gesture from a son to a mother. 

Of course, there was also the level of independence the task required. He wanted to show off his skills for me. He wanted to show that he could take care of me as I take care of him.

After he finished his own egg, he skipped over to the kitchen and made me eggs and toast. An egg sandwich appeared in front of me a few minutes later, cheese melted over the egg, a bit of black around the edges of the bread. 

It was the best egg sandwich I’ve ever had. 

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