Remember When

[6]

breakfast

Waffles are still better than pancakes. I don't care how many times we've relived this argument, you're always going to pick pancakes and I'm always going to pick waffles. And one of us is always going to be wrong - P.S. that's you - and one of us is always going to be right - P.S. that's me. I will admit that you made the best pancakes I've ever eaten, which I even told you when you admitted that my waffles made you actually like them.

Neither of us liked cooking, no matter what the time was, but the fact that neither of us are morning people made it even worse. Both of us would've been perfectly fine with just a Pop Tart or any sort of cheap snack that we could eat within a few minutes. At the same time, we were stuck in the annoying middle ground of "are we adults" or "are we still teenagers, living irresponsibly and without supervision". To us, if anything was going to make us somewhat adults, it would be cooking.

Even so, we would lay in bed and sleepily argue about who would have to go cook. We hated it so much that some days we would argue for so long that it was too late to get up and actually cook. I can remember laying in bed for almost an hour as we tried to convince the other why we should get up. "I cooked yesterday, you know?" You said once, giving me your biggest puppy eyes, which usually got me, but not when it came to cooking.

"You just made toast. That's it." I laughed, placing my hand on your cheek as if I could persuade you to not make me get out of bed.

You grinned at me brightly, "It's still breakfast, is it not?"

"I think you should have to do it for that smartass remark." You jokingly pushed me away before realizing that you could potentially push me out of bed to make me cook. That's how we ended up in a tickle fight, trying to push each other off the bed to determine who had to cook. You eventually won after I unfortunately surrendered. I made you waffles just because I'm a sore loser.

There were times when we completely compromised and cooked together. Most of the time it was one of us doing all the work and the other only there saying, "You got this, babe," and just handing whatever the cook asked for. It was still a joint effort, technically. We did spend most of the time cooking together, whether it was actually both of us or one of us spent the entire time just watching. Mainly you would just sit and make stupid comments about my butt but still called it 'helping'.

On very, very rare occasions, one of us would be willing to get up and cook for the other. It was mostly unlikely and really only on birthdays, but one of us would get up and try to not wake the other - which was sometimes impossible because we were usually a tangled mess - to make them breakfast in bed. This most likely only led to us cuddling for longer amounts of time while eating food that definitely wasn't meant to be eaten while wrapped around someone else, but we made it work.

Our go-to breakfast was always something not necessarily healthy - pancakes, waffles, bacon, immense amounts of syrup, but you had to be one of those people that goes through a health kick. And me being oh-so wrapped around your finger, agreed to try it with you. It didn't last for very long, obviously. You hated it just as much as I did. But it's the thought that counts, yeah? Anyway, during that time period, the only thing we could have for breakfast was fruit. I don't like fruit. The only fruit I've ever eaten is bananas, and even then, I didn't really like them. I ate so many bananas during that month. You raised the bar that month, learning to make different smoothies and parfaits to eat, which I usually tried but never liked.

We might've argued over who had to make breakfast for hours, but I still think that if we were ever going to get closer than we already were, it would be over breakfast. We hated it, but I still think that somehow we secretly loved it.