I Give and they Agave

Thoughts on life from the Organic Daddy

Typical Saturday morning. Baby Emma (we are required to refer to her as "baby" even though she is 2 1/2 years old and knows how to hold her bladder for 6 hours until she gets her way by unwinding our nerves and negotiating a deal for her toiletry usage for a pomegranate organic lollipop) yells out for some brave soul to enter her quarters. She then joins us in our bedroom, in the hopes that she might doze off for another 10-15 minutes. Guess what happens, no 10-15 minutes here! Our bed turn into a Chuck E. Cheese ball bounce pit. After getting abused like a pork chop, we slither out of bed for our favorite breakfast - organic waffles. My job is to clean the waffle iron. You might be saying that is not a JOB - however, I take it very seriously. I painstakingly clean up every single dried up burnt crumb and prepare for the most important ingredient known to cooking waffles - organic extra virgin olive oil. I dab a super absorbent paper towel, and with a painter's stroke, I lovingly spread the oil, ensuring that each individual waffle quadrant is perfectly coated (not too much oil because (a) this stuff is expensive and (b) I'm being closely monitored by the head chef and I don't want to lose my waffle iron privileges). After I complete my noble duties, I try to slowly sneak into the family room to catch anything on ESPN. No luck there though. Baby Emma has decided she wants to make a monster out of clay. We spend about 5-7 minutes mashing 12 different colors of clay and looking deeply into each others eyes, all the while making scary monster noises loudly. Finally, we sit down to eat the waffles that I slaved over. Baby Emma gets 4 waffles hot off the waffle iron - me, I sit like a well behaved adult even though my stomach is rumbling. My better half asks me what I would like to drink and I kindly reply "coffee." Birds are chirping, Baby Emma is happy and devouring her organic waffles - all is well. Except for one thing. It's taking a long time for the coffee to reach me. I look towards my better half and her back is turned toward me and I don't see any sugar around, but I do see the spoon stirring something in my coffee. No worries - I don't have life insurance so I'm not worried that something illegal is happening. She slowly brings the coffee over which is overflowing and spilling all over the place, but I bite my tongue (not really). I take the dripping coffee and start to drink and... nothing. It's fine. Not different from yesterday's or the cup from last week or last year. But then I get the question, "How was your coffee?" and I reply, "fine." At this point I see a smirk and I ask, "What?" and of course she says, "Nothing." But we all know "nothing" means "something." She tells me that she replaced my sugar with a couple of drops of Agave. Agave? Who? What? At this point I can't see straight from hunger and I ask Baby Emma to kindly spare her soggy organic waffle with me and she obliges. I forgot that I had Agave in my coffee nor did I care about delving deeper into the topic because those organic waffles were delicious.