Breakfast variety does not spice our children's lives

During the work week, breakfasts are simple affairs and fairly routine.

• Sam, our oldest, is usually the first one up and fends for himself. The decision tree is very rigid. He looks first for sugary treats, especially on Monday. Leftover cinnamon buns or donuts don't stand a chance. If there's nothing in that category, he checks out the cereal selection. If nothing meets with approval there, he toasts a bagel. He will usually skip an accompanying drink.
  
• Mason, the middle child, looks first for sugary treats. If none, he grabs a Pop Tart. If there are none left, he moans until he is convinced to have cereal, an English muffin or a granola bar. He will be three bites into whatever he is eating before he asks for someone to get him an apple juice.
• The first words out of youngest Benjamin's mouth almost every morning are, "Juice please!" Armed with orange juice in his drink bottle, he toddles off to sit with his brothers. Some mornings he's hungrier than others, but upon being asked what he wants for breakfast, he always replies, "What do we have?" His tastes run less sweet than the other two boys. While he will eat a Pop Tart or a sugary cereal, he usually prefers two slices of bacon, an occasional egg or a half of a bagel. Because of the juice, though, he's usually not hungry until after the two older boys go to school.

Weekends, though, are another matter. Without a bus to catch or work to check on, we all have a little more time to be deliberate in our breakfast preparations. Yet, there is a ritual to the weekend breakfast routine too.

Mason: "Dad, can you buy us some donuts?"

Or...

Benjamin: "Dad, can you make us some pancakes?"

I'm a softy for making pancakes. I love to make them, love to serve them and love to eat them. It always brings back memories of my grandfather firing up the griddle for my sister and I when we would be visiting the Cape. So hardly a weekend passes without me making pancakes on one of the mornings.

The other weekend morning is up for grabs, however. Sometimes, Brandy will make a coffee cake. Other times, Pillsbury rescues us with cinnamon rolls or Flaky Twists (a variety of Pillsbury's breakfast roll products). And every few weeks or so I will make a Dunkin' Donuts run.

Fruit salad? Not so yummy, yummy for our boys.

Yesterday, when Mason asked for donuts, I initially said no, but only because I had an alternate plan. Why give Dunkin' Donuts our money when I am perfectly capable of making donut holes at home. While it had likely been 20 years or more since I last made them during a high school home economics class, I am a seasoned and wiser cook now. Mix the though, stick them in hot oil, and a new entry in our breakfast menu would be born.

When I announced my plan, there was excitement in the air. "Daddy is making donuts!" Mason exclaimed to everyone in the house. There was dancing on the stairs. There were angels voices in the air. Chickadees joined in song from the trees beyond.

A few minutes later, though, the euphoria was tempered.

"I can smell the donuts," Mason said, this time with less vim in his voice. "They don't smell very good."

"Trust me," I replied. "They'll be great. And I'll sprinkle your cinnamon sugar on them."

Mason asks for cinnamon sugar almost every chance he thinks it will match what he is eating. I had him back in the fold. Soon the donut holes were all draining on a paper towel on the counter. The sugar was applied. Four were added to each child's plate. They ran for the kitchen.

Then they took a bite.

"Dad, these don't taste like donuts," Mason said.

Benjamin tried to cushion the blow to my cooking ego. "Dad, is it OK if I just eat this much?" he asked, motioning to two that he had taken a single bite from. "I'm full."

So am I, now that I ate theirs yesterday and and consumed a large portion of leftovers today. The silver lining is Brandy and I liked them. They were a perfect coffee accompaniment.

For the kids, though, it will be back to the breakfast rut for a while. They won't be easily convinced to try a tweaked recipe. Once you have emblazoned in their taste buds that they don't like something you've made, it will take some time -- and probably a lot more sugar -- for them to give the dish second chance.