We got a late start on the day. As usual, Namine woke me up. I had slept too late the day before to make Jessica a special breakfast, so I decided to make French toast.

Operating on what I remembered from watching Jessica — never having made French toast by myself before — I whipped together six eggs, a splash of milk, and a few whatevers of cinnamon (just kind of shaking the cinnamon over the pan for a few seconds, I have no idea what the measured amount was).

Jessica told me after they were done that she usually adds sugar and vanilla. Whoops.

But the end result was still tasty. Jessica likes syrup on her French toast, but being diabetic, she can’t add too much, or it becomes much too sweet. But because I neglected the sugar and vanilla, she could add more of the syrup she loves. In fact, she told me that next time, she would try making French toast my way.

"There are no mistakes, just happy accidents." Bob Ross

I feel that generally speaking, “my way” of making food is either screwing something up, like Namine’s chopped eggs, or forgetting something altogether, like the French toast. As Bob Ross used to say, “There are no mistakes, just happy accidents.”

I suppose my learning to cook is just a series of accidents — some happy, some burnt. At the end of the day, though, I find that I like to cook, and I try to learn from my mistakes.

My first chopped egg for Namine was a failed fried egg, but she liked it so much that it’s now her preferred Daddy-made breakfast food.

My first attempt at French toast was supposed to be a mimic of Jessica’s delicious recipe, or as close to one as I could get, at least. But in forgetting some things, Jessica discovered an alternate way of making them so she could indulge in some extra sweet syrup.

Husband. Daddy. Programmer. Artist. I'm not an expert, I just play one in real life.

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