Yesterday afternoon, my doorbell rang. Several of the neighbor girls brought me a bag with some french toast and bacon wrapped up in wax paper, and a little tub of syrup. Their reasoning was “in case I wanted to have it for breakfast tomorrow.” They left my house and headed for the neighbors next door, distributing breakfast around our circle.
Not long ago, I did eat it and it was good. I live in a place where the kids get a wild hair and decide to cook breakfast for the neighborhood. Right on!