I groped around my bed, trying to find my blue and black alarm clock, and ended up bumping my head on the shaded pink wall. My whole body felt tired and sleepy and my head seemed like it was about to explode. Still, I forced myself to stand up, found my alarm clock under my pillow, and walked to the bathroom without crashing into anything. I quickly brushed my teeth and splashed cold water onto my face. I immediately felt better. Phew! I stumbled, nearly tripping on the cool wooden stairs, and walked straight into the large modern and sleek kitchen. I opened the large kitchen windows that faced the stove and felt the warm sunshine engulfing me inside the bright and cloudless day. Bluebirds outside chirped their morning song while I stared dreamily out the window before slapping myself hard on the face to make sure I wasn’t going to fall asleep again.
I opened the refrigerator door and took out a piece of cheese danish along with a cup of milk. I inserted the cheese danish inside a small oven and turned the small knob next to the oven door to “three minutes”. I had gulped down all of my milk before the danish was even ready, due to my growling stomach. After the oven made a “Ringgg…” sound, I took out the cheese danish and garbled it down as quickly as possible. Finally, it was time to start off the crisp day with some cooking. Today was my mom’s birthday, and I planned to make her a delicious meal to start the bright day!
Yesterday, I had made sure that all the ingredients I was going to need were there. (My mom had asked me why I kept on going into the kitchen.) I had gotten the idea of making breakfast from my friend, Vivian. She told me that she took some leftover chocolate cupcakes and slices of pumpkin pie, frosted them with homemade vanilla icing, and gave it to her little four-year-old brother as a birthday present. She had forgotten all about her brother’s birthday until he “reminded” her by saying “Hey, Vivy! Vivy! Today’s my birthday! I’m finally four years old! Woo-hoo!”. The cupcakes and slices of pie were from a bake sale that our school had hosted. Instead of getting something pre-made, I was going to make everything myself. I pulled open the refrigerator again and took out eggs, fresh picked strawberries from our backyard garden, and slices of already cooked bacon that my dad had bought from Costco. Then, from one of the many cupboards, I took out salt, sugar, and flour, along with some sweet, honey syrup. I opened the dishwasher and carefully took out a clean shiny pan and a bowl-pan, along with a wooden spatula. It was time for the hard part: getting the waffle maker out of the large cupboard all by myself. I opened the cupboard door and started taking out some pots, a pan, mixing bowls, and a pair of kitchen mittens. Along with that, I managed to take out a glass bowl without breaking it. I carefully placed it on the countertops as a safety precaution instead of leaving it on the ground. At last, I was able to carry the waffle maker to safety on the island in the kitchen after grunting and heaving many times. Perfect!
I decided to first make the waffle, so I added some flour and water into a medium-sized bowl and started mixing with a silver spoon. I also cracked some eggs and put a dab of sugar into the batter. Once it looked well-mixed, I let it settle and turned on the waffle maker. Since it took about five minutes for the waffle maker to be ready, I decided to start cutting up the ripe strawberries and added them to the waffle batter. After plugging the plug of the waffle maker into an outlet and pressing the “on” button. I used a small green knife my mom and I had recently purchased from the Stanford Shopping Center in a kitchen store and chopped them (the strawberries) into small, tiny chunks, and dropped them slowly into the batter. 
The waffle maker made a loud “Beep” sound to let me know that it was ready to be used. I opened the lid and poured the waffle batter onto the waffle maker pan. After it was ninety-five percent full, I closed the lid and flipped the pan upside down to let it cook. Afterwards, I turned on the stove to a high fire and added oil to the pan-bowl. Then, realizing that I had used the pan-bowl instead of the regular pan, I placed the second pan onto the stove and added oil, heating everything up along the way. After waiting for about thirty seconds, I cracked two eggs and dropped them onto the hot pan. I had no idea how, but the eggshells slipped from my fingers and landed in the pan-bowl next door. The whole thing went ablaze and I let out a shriek of horror. I had forgotten to turn off the fire underneath the now super-hot pan-bowl! Stupidly, I tried grabbing the bowl, but halfway to the sink, I dropped it onto the small wooden table next to the island due to my burning hands. The whole table caught on fire. I screamed out loud and leaped back. The flames grew and grew until I was pretty sure the table was going to look like a pile of ashes. Quickly, I grabbed the nearest bucket, filled it with water, and dumped it onto the fiery flames. It all died out, but there was still a slightly acid-like smell in the kitchen. As I looked down into the now burnt black bowl, the remains of the eggshells were not that obvious; the color and texture were camouflaged completely. I knew I was going to be in big trouble, but all I cared about right now was getting the breakfast finished and delivered. I shoved the bowl into the sink and filled it with ice cold sink water (not that the water was much use; it turned to the color of coal black while swirling inside the bowl). As for the table, I was going to get in a lot of trouble, since now the remains were some scorched table legs and a large burnt piece of wood. Also, the bowl had been pretty expensive; my mom and dad had gotten it as an anniversary present not too long ago from a wealthy neighbor. Whatever…
When I was still little, my mom would always take me to the park or library, but lately, she spends most of her time inside her famous cafe, Le café français, working until eight at night and waking up around six in the morning. Usually, it’s my mom who makes dinner, but my dad and I take turns cooking nowadays.  Since today was Saturday, my mom was sleeping in; she usually slept late on Friday nights, and her cafe didn’t open until one o’clock pm on Saturdays. My dad had left for work early already; he was a  CEO in a software company. I waited for another one and a half minutes to let the eggs cook. When they were finished, the eggs were crispy and golden white on the back, but on the front, the egg yolk was warm and liquidy. Yum!
Just then, my younger sister, Eileen, came running in (probably due to the smell of ashes) and squealed in delight at the delicious breakfast smell. She had wanted to help, but I didn’t let her because she was still too young to be managing at the stove and oven, and I was afraid that she was going to cut or burn herself. Instead, she had decided to make a simple card with the huge words “Happy Birthday” on the inside. Eileen is usually the first one up in the morning, other than our dad. She’s a very, very energetic kid. I added a bit of salt on the top of the eggs and lifted them out of the pan, carefully placing them on a plate. Eileen excitedly jumped onto a high counter stool, and for a second, I thought that she had launched herself with too much power and fell, but she gracefully arched her back and bounced back. I sighed with relief and watched her pour two glasses of milk. She handed one to me with a sweet smile on her face, and I thanked her politely before turning around and continuing on what I had been doing.
“What are you making, Hope?” Eileen called out. “Waffles and the typical simple breakfast for mom.” I replied. Eileen then realized that another smell was emerging and she looked around the kitchen and saw the burnt table. She jumped back as if it was going to jump out at her and exclaimed in horror, “What did you do, Hope?!”
I replied slowly and quietly, “Nothing, I had a little accide-”
“Ohhhhhh, I’m going to tell mom!!”
I panicked and said, “Don’t tell mom, Eileen! She’ll find out anyways, and you don’t want to ruin her day by saying how I burned a table to ashes.”
Eileen shrugged and said, “Fine, but mom will still find out no matter what!!!” Having a little sister can either be a disadvantage or advantage; today was a disadvantage day.
The waffle timer beeped again, which meant the waffle was finally ready...Yes; something to take my mind of the table! I flipped the waffle pan back up so the opening faced me and I carefully opened the lid. As I pulled it open, I knew something was wrong; the waffle was split and was stuck onto the pan. All of a sudden, I realized I had forgotten to do one thing: add oil onto the pan before I added the batter. Since I had forgotten, the waffle was stuck and I knew it would take a long time trying to get it out, and cleaning the pan would take even longer. Now what was I going to do?
I stared miserably at the leftover waffle batter in front of me. Eileen noticed that something was wrong and came over. She looked into the waffle pan and gasped; that made me feel even worse. The waffle pan was still sizzling and I knew the bottom of the waffle was probably burnt. Suddenly, Eileen opened her mouth and said, “Make pancakes!!” with a wide smile. That reminded me of my cooking teacher, who used to say “When you’re stuck, do something useful that will at least help you in some way!” I could use the remaining batter to make pancakes! On the instruction manual, it said that the batter was good for making both pancakes and waffles! “Thanks, Eileen!” I said while giving her a big, gigantic hug. “No problem!”, she echoed back and drowned the rest of her milk in one big gulp. I guess today also counts as an advantage day.
I quickly heated up the pan I had used for cooking the eggs and poured oil onto it. After it was heated up, I delicately poured the batter onto the pan to form three small-medium sized pancakes. While I was waiting, I put two slices of bacon on a skillet and warmed it up. The sizzling of the bacon and the smell make me so hungry even though I had eaten only about twenty to twenty-five minutes ago. I flipped the pancakes and marveled at the perfect golden brown color. I also took the bacon of the skillet and put it next to the eggs. At the last minute, I grabbed some Texas oranges from the refrigerator and blended them up in an enormous blender with some ice cubes. I poured the fresh liquid into a glass cup and set it next to the plate full of bacon and eggs.
When the pancakes were ready, I lifted them one-by-one out of the pan and used another plate to put them on in a stack. I took the leftover strawberries and topped them over the pancakes and drizzled the homemade honey syrup my dad’s coworker had given him yesterday hurriedly (dad’s coworker had gone chestnut picking and bought several jars of honey syrup along the way); my mom only accepts honey syrup because it’s more fresh than pre-packaged syrup in a bottle (I really can’t tell the difference. I think honey syrup is purer. Oh well...). Then, for presentation, I added a few powdered mint leaves and 2 chocolate covered strawberries on the center of the top pancake. Eileen ran into the kitchen again and put her card on a blue breakfast tray. “Hope! Hope! Put the dishes onto the tray so everything is easier to carry!” she said loudly.
“Okay. okay...Don’t be so loud, though. You’re going to wake up mom!” I whispered to her softly while balancing the two dishes and the glass of orange juice onto the tray. After making everything was in the right place, Eileen and I woke up my grumpy brother, Ryo, with some difficulty because he wasn’t too keen on having to wake up so early on the weekend. I was surprised he hadn’t woken up to the sour and acerbic smell. “Whazzaruomooing...izzstilouearlz... inthmoring...” he had said as we shook him lightly on the shoulder. (Ryo was in high school, and he thought that he was too cool for everything and everyone, including my sister and I.)
“What’s that sm-” he began and sniffed at the “contaminated” air, but I interrupted him.
“Hurry up! Today is mom’s birthday in case you haven’t noticed!”
“Yeah! So get out of bed NOW!” Eileen added and pursed her lips in a very grown-up way; I had to bite my cheeks to not laugh. “By the way, did you know Hope almost burned down the who-”
I interrupted her loudly and said, “That doesn’t matter. Just get out of bed, Ryo!” and shot Eileen a dirty look. She grinned at me, showing her two large front teeth that were sticking out and making her look like a beaver.
After Ryo got up, he purposely dragged himself out of bed very slowly until Eileen took out a hardcover book from underneath his bed and threw it at his head. “Ow! fuh@#g*!j” was the reply that Eileen and I received. Lazy brothers these days, I thought to myself, Tsk tsk. Ryo said he wanted to have some breakfast first, but Eileen threatened to throw the book at him again, so he didn’t. Afterwards, we slowly pushed open my parent's bedroom door and walked softly across the wooden floor (Eileen and I tiptoed, but Ryo stomped into the room like an elephant). I opened the light blue lace-style curtains to let the sunshine in, and together, Ryo, Eileen, and I yelled “Happy Birthday, Mom!!”