The Breakfast Dilemma

William sat at the breakfast table in astonishment as his mother placed a plate of French toast before him. 1

“What is this?” He asked, hoping the question would alert her to the quite unexpected nature of this morning’s breakfast.2

“It’s French toast,” came the unconcerned reply.3

William was beside himself in consternation. Surely his own mother was not ignorant to the fact that she was, at this very moment and in his very presence, breaking the rules that strictly governed how breakfast was to be served to almost-six year old boys. The thought was so overwhelming for him that he could not speak for fully thirty seconds.4

“But I ate French toast for breakfast yesterday!”5

The look he earned for his completely understandable objection could have easily been mistaken for reproach. “Yes, and now you’re having it again.” 6

William hardly knew how to act. Every boy of nearly-six knew that it was absolutely unlawful for an upstanding member of the Society to eat the same breakfast two days running. It was unheard of in fact. Will could not, in good conscience, allow French toast to enter his mouth a second consecutive morning. It would be the end of him, he was certain. 7

Was it possible that the woman he owned as his mother was in fact plotting his demise? He could not believe it. There must be another answer. Perhaps she really did not know about the rule. Perhaps the severity of the situation had somehow escaped her adult mind. William decided he must try to understand the logic that had led his loving parent to perpetrate such a grievous trespass against not only himself, but upstanding mostly-six year old boys all over the universe.8

“Mom, why are we having French toast two days in a row?”9

His mother paused in mid-coffee pour and fixed her son with a quizzical look. “Will, you like French Toast. You ate three pieces yesterday.”10

Drat. She was dodging the question. Still, he held onto the hope that she was indeed ignorant of the true situation of the current circumstance. Will decided the direct approach was all he had left.11

“I can’t eat French toast today.”12

“Why not?”13

Relief washed over the might-as-well-be-six year old boy. She really didn’t know. 14

“Because, Mom, I ate it yesterday.”15

“So?” she asked petulantly as she slowly stirred her coffee. 16

Will dipped into his reserve of patience, which was considerable for someone who was quite soon to be six. “Mom,” he explained slowly, suspecting her adult mind might not be able to grasp the subject as quickly as his would, “I can’t eat the same breakfast for two days. It’s just not allowed.”17

“Really,” She replied. “Says who?”18

There was another law of the Society of Boys who May as Well be Six. It was even more important than the one forbidding the consumption of duplicate meals within a forty-eight hour period. The best way to get kicked out of the club was to tell an adult about it. Each member was sworn to absolute secrecy shortly after their not quite sixth birthday. It was a matter of honor, and William was of the most honorable sort. He would rather be dipped in yellow squash and rolled in spinach to be served as an appetizer to the dreaded closet monster than to betray his brotherhood. The best way to avoid a horrible, honorable death was to pretend he had not heard the question.19

“Can I just have some cereal?”20

Will’s mom turned her attention back to her coffee. “You can eat the French toast, or you can wait until lunch.”21

The boy felt as if he’d taken a blow to the gut with a ball bat. Nothing to eat until lunch? Why that was at least 4 hours away. An eternity! Surely the woman was being facetious. She could not really expect a growing boy, who was so close to being six he could taste the birthday cake, to go for an entire morning without nourishment! It was ungodly. It was down right ferocious. 22

William’s head hung from his drooping shoulders in a quagmire of self-pity. He knew he couldn’t last until the noon meal. Darkness closed in around him as the prospect of a worse than abstemious morning threatened to do him in before actual hunger could. He thought of the wondrous adventure that would have been his life and his heart broke as he realized the story would be cut short. The final line of the last of only five pages constituting the book of William would read “So perished William James, whose life was ended by a second morning of French toast.” 23

The vision of it seemed to trip a switch in the mind of the desperate-to-live-to-make-six boy. He began to consider his options in a way he’d never thought of before. His stomach rumbled as if to cheer him toward survival. Feverishly, he hunted through his mental guide to the laws of the Society. He could feel his body weakening with every passing second. There must be an escape clause. Surely he was not the first somewhat-six year old boy to be faced with such a conundrum. 24

He searched and searched. All the way from “Arctic Weather Survival Tactics” to “Zebra Taming in Your Closet” he scanned the volume. Finally, when all seemed lost and the insanity of hunger was about to claim his sensibilities, William found what he knew he must find. On the very last line of the very last page was a little red star that marked these words: “In the event that his mother countermands any of the laws of the Society (excepting his oath of secrecy), a member in good standing may not be held liable for any action taken in opposition to said law on grounds of coercion and basic rights of survival.”25

William felt a sudden weight fly from his shoulders. The sun shown brightly through the windows and the birds sang sweetly once again. He smiled, and picked up his fork. All was right with the world as the on-the-verge-of-being-six year old boy happily ate his French toast and contemplated the possibilities that were being offered today by the great adventure that was destined to be his life.26