Breakfast
Since Eliza had been on a business trip for the past few days, Alexander had been left to look after the kids and house alone. That, on top of his already packed schedule as a lawyer, was more than a bit stressful. He hadn't caught a break this whole week.
He felt like he had hardly slept for 5 minutes (which was probably true), when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He thought his mind might've been playing tricks on him, so when no other taps followed, he felt himself begin to nod off again. The second time, he was met with a more aggressive tap to the arm.
"Papa, wake up!" A small voice called directly into his ear, not quite loudly, but when you're running off a few minutes of sleep, it sure feels like it.
"What," he sleepily replied, a bit more aggressively than he meant to. He tried to fix his mistake by opening his eyes and letting a small smile play on his lips. "What is it buddy?" he tried.
"Will you make me breakfast?" His three-year-old, James Alexander, gently requested. Alexander sighed.
"Can it wait a few more hours, buddy? It's the middle of the night." He replied, about to let his eyes fall shut again.
"No, it's not!" James Alexander's shrill voice giggled, "It's daytime! See!" He exclaimed, wildly gesturing to the window for emphasis. Alex cracked an eye open, looking towards the window to see the light streaming through the blinds. He groaned and threw his legs over the side of the bed, forcing himself to get up. He grabbed James' tiny hand and led him to the kitchen.
"What do you wanna eat this morning, bud?" Alexander asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
James Alexander smiled, "Pancakes!"
Pancakes. A simple request, really. How hard could it be to make waffles on a pan instead of in a waffle iron? The answer was very hard, he realized, as he threw away yet another burnt yet undercooked pancake. He poured more batter on the pan, turning up the heat in hopes of fully cooking it. Nope. It just burned one side to a crisp and made it impossible to flip. Again. But this wasn't the 18th century, and though he would never ask a person for help, he wasn't above asking google. He pulled out his phone and quickly searched "y do my pa ckaes ke p burning?!"
Ah. He needed to lower the temperature, allow them to cook more slowly. That made sense. Eliza probably did that. Eliza already knew how to perform the basic life skill of cooking. Alexander never minded surviving off ramen and microwaveable meals while in college, but after having Eliza cook for him for so many years, his taste buds were spoiled and picky.
Alright. Here goes nothing. He waited what felt like at least a few minutes, then flipped the pancake, only to find that the first side was still undercooked and gooey. He sighed. He wasn't exactly the most patient man in the world. If it were just him, he would've given up and eaten the batter raw by now. But it wasn't just him. He ruffled James Alexander's hair as he threw another failed "pancake" in the trash.
There was only enough batter in the bowl to make one more pancake. This had to be the one. He took a deep breath in as he slowly poured the batter into a perfect circle. The front door swung open.
"I'm back!" Eliza called from the front hall. Alex and James Alexander dropped what they were doing and quickly rushed to greet her. Alexander took his wife in his arms and kissed the top of her head, already ranting about what a week he'd had.
"And don't even get me started on making breakfast! I've failed at doing that everyday this past week. I've gained so much respect for your work, pleaseneverleavemeagainohmygod." Alexander ranted animatedly to an amused Eliza. He was only broken out of his trance by the beeping of the smoke alarm in the kitchen. Eliza raised an eyebrow.
"Uh...about that breakfast..." He quickly explained as he rushed to the kitchen, only to find his biggest fear. A black pancake, burnt to a crisp. Dammit.
"Note to self: Never let you use the stove," Eliza joked as she turned it off and dumped the pancake into the trash, laughing to herself as she was faced with all of Alexander's other failed attempts.
Eliza began making eggs for breakfast while Alexander cleaned up. The rest of the Hamilton children filed out of their rooms one-by-one, each greeting their mother excitedly, happy to have a normal breakfast instead of an inedible, burnt excuse that they choked down to spare their father's feelings.
Eliza smiled, feeling especially appreciated. It was good to be home.
A/N: so you're probably reading this and thinking: this challenge was in 2019, why is she doing this now? And the answer is that two years ago today, I met locker130 and she wanted me to update this story so here we are. Enjoy ig?
