Cinnamon Toast

I don’t mean to brag.

But I totally will.

If there were a Master Chef competition for cinnamon toast, I would totally win. I am a connoisseur of cinnamon toast. An expert, if you will.

Now this may not seem like a lofty claim to fame, but you haven’t tasted my cinnamon toast.

My love for cinnamon toast started at a young age. As far back as middle school, it was my snack of choice after school each day. And by “snack”, I mean I would eat half a loaf of bread. At a time. I’ve always had a fast metabolism and back then, I would arrive home from school absolutely starved. In hindsight, probably not the healthiest snack, but yum….

My love for cinnamon toast has remained over the years and while I’m not much of a toast eater anymore, it still is good.

My son has inherited my love for cinnamon toast. This same son has had an incredible summer. In the last six weeks, he enjoyed family vacations on Whidbey Island, Missouri and Sunriver, Oregon. He traveled to Portland, Spokane and Las Vegas for basketball tournaments. This boy has been on the go. At times I feel like I’ve only seen him to give him a hug and do his laundry in between basketball commitments.

And he left again this morning for another five day camp. The last of the summer, which is good, because even this go-getter is ready for some down time.

Yesterday, he needed to pack. He is very independent and quite self-sufficient, but still lays out his stuff for me to review to make sure nothing is missing. Typically something is and I earn mom credit by averting disaster (like forgetting a swimsuit).

He also needed to recharge. He was wiped out from his recent Vegas trip and somehow returned with a bad ear infection. So he was resting and playing endless hours of Fortnite. Doctor’s orders?

And then I got the call. I was running an errand and he called me – actually spoke on the phone – and said “Mom, can you make me cinnamon toast?”

Oh my heart! I immediately went home (I was done with my errand anyway) and made him my best cinnamon toast. Heart bursting.

You see, teenage boys don’t need a whole lot. I love that he wanted his favorite comfort food – only from me – when he didn’t feel great. I am so there. 

Because even when they are nearly 14 and 8 inches taller than you, they are still your little guy. And I’ll always make him cinnamon toast.