This morning Ferdinand’s pre-K class had a Fathers’ day breakfast and I signed up for the bagels and coffee. I didn’t think much about it until I thought about it, and then I thought, A. we have no bagels in our neighborhood and B. I have no coffee maker.
The hard thing about being the professional in these situations is being a lazy professional. Can I make bagels? Not so much. Can I try? Not so much. I took the train to the city instead and bought them from Murray’s on 6th Avenue in the Village where they make bagels every 10 minutes. I have no problems with the ethics of buying your way to success. I would have ordered 36 cups of coffee as well, but I think you can get put in jail around here for reheating last nights coffee and calling it fresh. At half past six this morning I shamed myself up out of bed and made 36 cups of espresso in my midget moka, and heated up the milk in my pasta pot.
For dinner I’m passing the torch. I’m going to tell Ferdinand, “listen man, now that you’re stepping up to Kindergarten, dinner is yours on Friday nights.” I see nothing wrong with a little raw food and sugar every once in a while.