"All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast" (--John Gunther)

Some years ago, when my son Eric was a teenager, we visited Bermuda for a short vacation. Each morning while we were there, I instructed him to make sure he filled up on breakfast food. I told him to go back and have seconds, and eat as many eggs and bacon and hash browns as his little heart desired, so that he'd last until later in the day. (I had figured we could sort of wind up combining lunch and dinner as one meal in the late afternoon if he ate enough at breakfast.)

The place where we were staying served a nice buffet brunch that was a pretty decent meal, and they also served lots of muffins, pastries, fruit and juices. I encouraged him to take some of the fruit and a croissant or muffin along with him when we left, so he'd have it for a snack later on.

I thought I was very smart and that we'd last until late afternoon, when we could wind up sitting out at some lovely place on the water, enjoying the beautiful scenery before it turned dark.

I forgot one tiny detail, though...

This was back in the day when I would make meals for the two of us from recipes that said things like "Serves eight generously," but the two of us would polish that baby off in 20 minutes. He was a growing boy and he ate like there was no tomorrow.

We did wind up eating some great meals while we were there, and I have very fond memories of that trip.

I remember being quite amused that when we arrived at our hotel on that trip, Eric and I kind of looked at each other and laughed, because we both immediately realized we were being given the Honeymoon Suite at this place! We had a great view out on the water, and there was one king-sized bed. There were flowers, a basket of fruit, chocolates...the whole nine yards. We wound up requesting two beds, and they happily complied, but when we left and I received the bill, sure enough, the receipt was for "Mr and Mrs E. Smith."

To this day, I smile, realizing that they surely must've thought I was robbing the cradle...

"Oh breakfast, lovely breakfast,
You're the meal I savor most.
I sip a bit of gargoyle bile,
And chew some ghoul on toast.

I linger over scrambled legs,
Complete with pickled feet,
Then finish with a piping bowl
Of steamy SCREAM OF WHEAT."

(--Jack Prelutsky)

“Do your kids a favor—don’t have any.” (-Robert Orben)

Any parent knows that in the final analysis, there’s no guarantee you’ll have Nice Kids. I'm one of the lucky ones.

My son Eric married a lovely girl from Bermuda, and they lived and worked there for several years. Now, they live in Cambridge, Massachusetts while his wife is back in school working on her PhD.

While he was growing up, I was the Queen of the Worriers. I was a single parent, so I was always agonizing over something: how I must be a bad parent, or how I couldn’t afford to do different things for him I'd have liked to do, or what he might wind up being like as an adult. There was always something to be concerned over. Eric always said he didn't worry, because he knew I did enough worrying for the two of us.

In some ways, Eric really raised me. I was a young mother, and I used to tell him, “You know, there’s no book telling me the right way to do this. We’re both learning how this all works.” He took everything in stride, and he was always thoughtful, sensitive and kind, even as a little kid. I often tell people, when I describe how pleasant he is now, that even if he weren’t my son, I would want him as a friend, and I mean that.

Now,…that said, I don’t want you getting the wrong impression. As much as I was the Stress Queen, he is the King of Sarcasm and Humor. He makes me laugh…always has.

Once, when he was very small, I was in my 20’s, and I had had a particularly tiring day, stressing out more than usual, and I said to him, “Eric, your mother’s getting old.” I suppose I was looking for some sort of comforting words. He looked up at me, and without blinking an eye, he nodded his head, and very matter-of-factly said: “Mmmm…soon, you’ll be dying!” with an almost cheerful lilt to it. He didn't seem remotely phased by that notion. He's made me laugh, and he's made me proud over the years. I love him very much.

“Families are like fudge—mostly sweet with a few nuts.” (author unknown)