Hot Dogs for Breakfast

This past weekend, I did the unspeakable on a Saturday morning – I set my alarm.  At least it was for a good cause; my wife and I were escaping to Sonoma, California, otherwise known as our favorite place on earth.  A long weekend full of delicious wines, tasty food, coastal drives, and spectacular views was in store, with a little research on my book thrown in for good measure.

The alarm went off and I immediately smacked the snooze button.  What seemed like nine seconds instead of nine minutes later, the alarm went off and I again showed the snooze button who was in charge.  But, when the alarm went off for the third time, I remembered the reason I was waking up even a bit earlier than needed and pulled myself out of my slumber.  I clomped down the stairs to find my son, Wyatt, already awake and heavily engrossed in a video game.  I asked him if he had eaten breakfast yet, to which he replied, “No. Why do you ask?”

I hesitated for a moment.  My affair with the snooze button caused me to sleep in longer than I should have.  I hadn’t showered or even thought about packing, yet had to leave for the airport in 45 minutes.  I thought about simply pouring a bowl of Corn Chex for Wyatt, but quickly decided I couldn’t leave it at that.

“How about we walk to the Quik Stop for breakfast?”

“The Quik Stop?  For breakfast?  What will we eat when we get there?” he asked.

“Whatever we want.”

Before we were even out the door, my ten year old boy had grabbed my hand, and that is how we made the 15 minute walk to the neighborhood convenience store.  Sometimes we chatted, and sometime we walked in silence, but our hands never separated.  I would periodically look over at my son and each time saw the same expression.  His lips had formed into a small smile that couldn’t seem to leave his face.

As Wyatt has allergies to gluten and dairy, choices as far as what to eat at the Quik Stop were somewhat limited.  On our walk there, we decided that hot dogs would be satisfying, but when we ultimately arrived, we found the hot dog machine to be empty.  In fact, the machine wasn’t yet turned on for the day; I guess there is little demand for hot dogs at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning.

We walked around the rest of the store and encountered many tasty things that Wyatt could not eat, like breads, bagels, and donuts.  It was starting to look like a lost trip, when in the back corner of the store’s cooler, we found the stash of pork goodness.

I forked over $1.49 for a package, and heated up two hotdogs in the store’s microwave.  Just 60 seconds later, we were feasting on them, using Gatorade as a chaser.  I expect Wheaties reps will read this blog and become very nervous that my newly discovered combination will supplant their cereal as the Breakfast of Champions.

While I would have been game to see if we could have demolished the whole eight-pack, Wyatt taught me restraint when he indicated that one hot dog was enough.

After we finished dining, we rejoined hands and walked the 15 minutes home, chatting with the many puppies that were out walking their owners. As we neared our house, I asked Wyatt if he thought we should repeat our gourmet experience again some time.  Although I more or less knew what his reply would be, it was still fun to hear ,”Yeah, this was awesome!”

We arrived home at the time I had intended to leave my house.  After a hurried shower, I stuffed some clothes into my bag and we were off to the airport.  My wife and I ended up arriving at our gate just two minutes before the door was closed, and likely only made it on time as a motorized vehicle driver agreed to drive us to our gate. 

The funny thing is that the thought of missing my flight really wasn’t concerning me.  I’d already accomplished the most important part of my day, everything else was just gravy.  Well, maybe ketchup, as that goes better on hotdogs.