Breakfast in bed done simply, right

I’ve always been a bit perplexed about the fuss of breakfast in bed. I grew up in the Brady Bunch Era where such things were considered a big deal. The hard working, stay-at-home mother figure would get the “special treatment” from well intended (but also very messy) kids or the well intended (but always blundering) dad.

Food on a tray served to mom propped up with pillows behind her was considered the height of pampering back then.

It’s not been something I’ve had much interest in. Why would I want to eat in bed? I wouldn’t be comfortable and I’d end up sleeping in crumbs or spilling egg yolk on the white down comforter that would just send me into a fit of anxiety. Give me a bistro table, a pair of sunglasses and a SF Chronicle. Now that’s a treat.

The Bride loves breakfast in bed, but not for the Mrs. Brady satisfaction of being relieved from “women’s work” for a day. She just really likes bed. So if she’s still laying around, doing something on Facebook (no idea what that’s all about) or reading news on her phone or even playing solitaire, she’s quite content. And she’s not avoiding the women’s work because we share that, whether she’s going to get fed in bed or not.

So the point of all this? I’m not sure, other than my mind fixated on this for a long period of time this morning as I realized I was serving my wife breakfast in bed. In fact, I realized, I serve my wife breakfast in bed probably two or three times a week. In all that time I don’t recall that she’s ever said, “Oh wow, breakfast in bed! You are SOOO wonderful!”

I don’t think it happened anyway… hold on, let me ask.

“Hey,” I say.

“What’s wrong?” she asks startled.

“Nothing, I gotta question.”


“What do you think about breakfast in bed?”

“Ooh, I love it. I think it’s romantic and sexy and wonderful.”

Huh? Gee, I was right on point with this thread, wasn’t I? See what I get for thinking too much?

“Why are you laughing?” she asks.


“I didn’t think it mattered that much,” I said.

“That’s your deal — getting all worked up over the crumbs. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean I don’t,” she said.

Got me again. Still, I’m in it now. I have to fight it out.

“It’s just that, don’t you get breakfast in bed quite a bit?” I ask.

Silence. As she thinks she notices the blog page on my computer screen.

“This isn’t going to be one of those blogs where you make me sound like a Marine Sgt. is it?”

An interesting conversation ensued from there that basically taught us a couple of things: 1) I am pretty clueless. 2) The act of breakfast in bed isn’t really about the food; it’s about all the pampering and lovey dovey stuff that at least historically accompanies it. Oh yeah, and one more: 3) I really don’t like crumbs in the bed and when its time to eat breakfast, I’m really not thinking about hearts and valentines.

So I returned to my original question and asked The Bride if after she’s ever said “you’re SOOO wonderful” when I’ve brought her breakfast in bed.

More silence.

“Well I don’t say it, but I think it.”

I snicker a bit, but then she says, “I’m just really lucky I guess.”

See how she knows how to say just the right thing? See how I don’t?

Bottom line: Breakfast in bed? Sure, but keep it simple. The rest is far too complicated in my opinion.


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