Yes, little beach urchin, you really did eat Mama Eggs. Every day for I’m not sure how long. A Mama Egg is one egg, scrambled in a little glass bowl with a little milk, and cooked in the microwave. I forget how long I cooked it — not long — and, yes, I stirred it up a couple times for all of you who are horrified that it might be HOT!

I don’t remember when I started cooking Mama Eggs or when I stopped. It was a phase and I guess it lasted until the little lizard was able to classify that particular kind of egg breakfast as a Mama Egg. For the record, there was also a Daddy Egg, a Rolled-up Egg, a Grandma Egg, and a Ron’s Egg. All were variations on the theme of scrambled eggs and those other variations were cooked on the stove, in a frying pan, in a more traditional fashion.

I do remember the routine. Sort of. And the reason. When you have a kid who hangs out at 0% on the growth curve and is a bit fussy about food (and most kids are, face it), if you find something that they like, you keep cooking it. Hopefully it’s “healthy” in some way shape or form. If you are lucky, they don’t max out on it after you’ve bought out the neighborhood grocery store. My kids have maxed out on “the food of the week” any number of times but a Mama Egg for breakfast kept my baby going for quite some time. Long enough for it to be named and other, similar dishes to be classified.

So, we were talking about this over breakfast at the Village Kitchen this morning. I was eating the egg-lite special or whatever it is (two eggs scrambled and hash browns). Lite? Not really. Just no bacon. Bacon is for weekends. Lizard, after taking the red-eye out here from her home in San Francisco, definitely ordered the Greek Omelet. Hungry? Yeah. But it was a lot and she had half of it packed to go. I encouraged that. And that was what sparked the Mama Egg discussion. Do scrambled eggs reheat well in the microwave? I say yes. I’m sure there are grown-up food fussies that might disagree with me but I’m thinking if she doesn’t want the rest of that omelet herself, maybe I’ll eat it for breakfast tomorrow morning. I am not too proud to sit in my kitchen and eat leftover scrambled eggs heated up in the microwave.

And crack me up neighborhood feral cats. About 10 minutes before Lizard Breath was dropped off at 5:30 AM or whatever it was, I could *swear* I heard a car door shut in the street. I waited a bit. I didn’t want to appear too eager. But she didn’t come in… Finally, I went to the door and *who* was on the porch staring at me? One of our local feral cats. The big dark gray sorta stripey one. I wish I couldda gotten a picture. But we surprised each other and he stared me down for a few seconds and ambled off. Go scare those skunks buddy!

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