They were at it again.
The infamous six-year-old twins, James and Jake, were cooking up trouble.
“Gimme the eggs, Jake,” the first said.
“Sure thing, James,” the latter replied. Jake, the younger of the twins, ran to the refrigerator. As he precariously balanced himself on one of the dining room chairs, he reached for the eggs -- and knocked over the milk. It splashed and splattered all over the floor, sending the white liquid everywhere. Yet it didn’t seem to faze the young boy, who was now fearlessly bounding off the chair, eggs in hand.
“What else should we add?” asked James as his younger brother handed him the eggs. He cracked them rather messily on the edge of the huge bowl in front of him. The duo watched as both egg and pieces of shell oozed their way inside it. “Milk?” James added to his previously train of thought.
“Um...” Jake looked back towards the white puddle in front of the refrigerator, “we don’t have anymore.”
Following his brother’s gaze, James noticed the spilled milk splattered across the ground. He wasn’t fazed by it either. “Well then, what else should we use?” the elder questioned.
Both paused, deep in thought. It didn’t take long, however, for Jake’s eyes to brighten up in epiphany. “I know!” he shouted. “Orange juice!” At that, he made for the refrigerator once more.
“Orange juice?” questioned James.
“Yep! Momma always gives us orange juice with our eggs in the morning, so why not cook them together?” replied Jake as he began pouring orange juice into the bowl. James paused, but then nodded his head in agreement...his younger brother’s argument sounded reasonable enough to him.
The infamous pair now stared at the goop inside the bowl, each trying to decide what else should be added. Then, without any warning, a smile simultaneously spread across both boys’ faces as they both shouted out the name of their next ingredient: “CHOCOLATE!”
And so, in went the chocolate candy bars. The following ten minutes would be spent in a similar fashion. One or both of the twins would shout out another ingredient -- such as sugar, flour, maple syrup, cheese, and a variety of unknown spices from the spice rack -- and proceed to add it to the mess already inside the bowl. Just when it began to look full enough, the young boys heard footsteps coming down the stairs and into the kitchen. Turning around, they saw none other than...Momma.
Their mother stood at the entrance of the kitchen, still in her pajamas and robe, with her mouth agape as she surveyed the scene. The spilled milk had begun to dry and already smelled awful. There were eggshells, candy wrappers, and other trash littered around the kitchen floor. Her counters all appeared to be covered with a sticky substance. And there, in the center of it all, stood her two sons, covered head-to-foot in flour. In her astonished state, all she could manage to stutter out was, “Wh-wh-what...”
“Surprise!” the duo shouted.
Smiling from ear to ear, they carried the bowl over to their mother. James lifted it up for her to see and started their explanation off. “Look...”
“...we made breakfast...”
“...for your birthday...”
“...because you always make the breakfast...”
“...but today you should relax...”
A moment later, their poor mother’s shock wore off, and she smiled warmly at the two. Taking the bowl from them, she replied, “Thank you James, thank you Jake. It was very thoughtful of you both. Now go wash up before...uh...breakfast. And be sure to wake your father up after that.” At that, the two scampered off to the bathroom, congratulating one another on a job well done. She laughed as she watched them go, thinking, “They’re both such good boys...”
Then, staring down at the unknown “breakfast” inside the bowl, and back at the disaster area that was once her kitchen, she sighed. “...They sure are a handful sometimes, though.”
Setting the bowl down on the counter, she made her way towards the sink. This could take a while to clean up. There was also the matter of making a proper breakfast. Not to mention having to explain to her two young sons that, yes, their gift was thoughtful, but no, they should never, ever, do it again.
Yet in spite of all this, she found herself smiling as she heard her two thoughtful trouble-makers’ laughter echoing down the hall.
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