This morning Max popped out of bed when the sun was brushing its teeth. He whispered into my ear, “let’s make mom some waffles. shhh.” “My Famous Yeasted Beer and Sour Cream Waffles?” I said. “Shhh,” Max whispered, “yep, the yeasted beer ones.” “Let’s wake up the yeast,” he said.

We tip toed into the kitchen and woke up the yeast with a splash of warm water and brown sugar. “The yeast is getting angry,” Max said. “Maybe it would like a sip of beer,” I said. I gave the yeast a few sips of beer. Me and Max got to calling the mixture a “brew”.

“The brew smells like Cheerios dad.” “Yep,” I said. “I should stir the brew some more dad.” “Yep,” I said. “Will those yeasts really nip your finger if you put your finger in the brew dad?” “Yep” don’t put your finger in there,” I said. We whisked in two cups of flour.

We separated two eggs. “Zelda made these eggs dad.” “Yep,” I said. We dropped the yolks in the brew. We put three pinches of salt in it and three pinches of corn meal. “What’s the corn meal for dad?”

“Search me,” I said. “Search me,” Max said. We stirred in two dollops of Mexican sour cream. We stirred in a half stick of melted butter. “This brew smells famous,” Max said. “I know,” I said. We thinned out the batter with some of the can of beer. I drank the rest of the can of beer. “Can I have some beer,” Max said. “When you’re fourteen,” I said. We whipped the egg whites so they had “stiff peaks.”

Max gently folded them into the brew. “Gently is boring dad,” Max said. “Be that as it may,” I said.

We got the iron hot, as they say, and ladled the batter in.

We served the waffles with maple syrup and whipped cream from the can. Robin’s mom always brings her surplus cans of Costco brand whipped cream when she visits. I can’t say why. Max tip toed into the bedroom where Robin and Levi were sleeping.

“We spoiled you with waffles!” Max cried out.

“Perfect!” Max proclaimed, and stuck up his thumbs.