Eggs on the Kitchen Floor: A Mother's Day Tale

By Maggie's Revenge

As he looked over the disaster of his kitchen, he wondered how he could promise to make her cry only tears of joy in his journey, how he could promise to save an entire country and return safely with his and his brother's bodies restored, yet he couldn't make a simple breakfast without destroying everything in sight.

From their bedroom, Winry could only hear the ongoing debacle, but it was enough to know that her automail orders won't be filled anytime soon. There were cries of, "Alexander, what are you… No!" and "It's okay, it's okay, Daddy will clean it up," and "No, Alex, don't touch that. No.I mean it, don't… Shit!"and "Alexander, don't you dare repeat that, your mom will kill me."

It had started with the eggs. They would make Winry a breakfast of pancakes, he'd decided. That would impress her. Alexander stood on a chair at the island counter in their kitchen. He wore a striped apron that had been folded over at the waist to fit him, and his downy blond hair stuck up defiantly. Smoothing it down, Ed asked, "Ready, bud?"

Alexander grinned and eagerly bounced. "Yeah!"

The ingredients Ed had been able to remember off the top of his head were arranged on the counter, and as he read the recipe for pancakes from a beat up cookbook, Alexander stretched out his chubby arm, trying to reach anything within grabbing distance.

"Cup and a half of flour… three and a half teaspoons of baking powder… teaspoon of salt… Salt? Really?" Ed raised his eyebrows. "I guess we'll need salt. Hey, bud," he said, looking at Alexander. The boy froze with his hand on the bag of flour. He giggled and smiled at his dad, saying in an impish voice, "Whoops."

Ed glared playfully back. "'Whoops' is right. Now listen up, Dad needs salt. Can you get that for me?" Ed gestured to the salt and pepper shakers at the end of the counter.

Alexander nodded emphatically, picked up the salt shaker behind him with both hands and handed it to his dad.

"Good," Ed nodded. "That can go with the other ingredients." He set it down and continued reading the recipe, "One tablespoon of sugar… one and a quarter cup of milk, ugh, we can probably do without that… one egg… Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "You can be in charge of the egg."

Alexander clapped and yelled, "Yay! I get to do the egg!"

"Yeah," Ed echoed, "you get to do the egg and Daddy can measure all the other ingredients. We'll also need to melt three tablespoons of butter… Hey." He stopped, staring at the boy. "What are you doing?"

Alexander had dragged the carton of eggs across the table and removed a single egg. His arm was stretched out over the kitchen floor; he had a mischievous grin on his face.

"No, seriously Alex, what are you doing with the egg? Put it down."

"Down?" Alex asked. He began to giggle, and Ed's eye widened in realization.

"Shit. No, bud…"

Alexander opened his hand and the egg cracked on the floor, its yolk spitting out and oozing slimily over the floorboards.

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not thatdown."

The little boy erupted in a fit of laughter.

A knocked bag of flour, spilled batter, several more broken eggs and a brief lesson in "This is why we leave the measuring to Daddy" later, Ed gave up on the pancakes and resorted to jam and toast.

And,one kitchen counter jam portrait, smoke detector beeping spell and a discourse in "Don't tell Mom you heard me say that" later, Ed finally settled on cereal for breakfast. His goal of putting together a nice breakfast for Winry was clearly impossible.

"Alexander, how about you go outside and pick some flowers for Mom? We can put them in a glass of water and bring them to her with breakfast. Think she'll like that?"

"Yeah!" Alex shouted. Ed feebly warned, "Shh, remember, Mommy's sleeping," but was ignored; Alexander ran across the kitchen and reached for the doorknob with his small hands.

"Can you get it?" Ed asked as he pulled a cereal box from their cupboard and bumped the door shut with his hip.

Alexander managed the knob and yelled back, "Yeah."

"Okay. Stay close to the house!"

The door slammed.

Finally, Ed was left alone to appraise the wreckage. There was flour everywhere: the counter, the floor, even his hair. Bits of eggshell had been crushed under his slippers and were sprinkled, little white flecks, here and there across the kitchen. The counter was sticky with jam and butter and the gooey combinations of wet and dry ingredients. Blackened toast sat popped and unattended in the toaster. Ed sighed and placed his hand on the knob of a cabinet to retrieve cleaning supplies; he pulled his hand away just as quickly, making a sound of disappointed revulsion and wiping his hand on his pants. Somehow the mess had transcended the kitchen's horizontal surfaces and had spread to the walls and cupboards. He let his head fall back as he let out one profound and dreary "Uuuugh."

"Want some help?"

Ed immediately whipped his head and saw Winry standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a quizzical, amused expression and one of Ed's tattered old shirts over a pair of shorts.

"Winry…"

"You guys really made a mess, huh."

"You're supposed to be in bed."

Winry tilted her head and smirked. "You thought I could sleep through all that noise?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not to mention the burning smell. I hope you didn't let Alexander near the oven."

"No, it was just toast." Ed's hand absentmindedly found the back of his head and he ruffled his hair. "It was supposed to be toast, at least. We kind of screwed up."

Winry's smile took over her face and she crossed the kitchen, gingerly avoiding spills, to wrap her arms around her husband's waist. She went on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then said, "It's okay. I'm happy."

Ed couldn't remain grumpy. He caught her smile, beaming back with the lopsided grin that managed to make her heart skip even after all these years. "Good." He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head.

"So what's for breakfast?" she asked.

"That's a surprise."

She laughed. "Will it be edible?"

"Come on," he chided. "I wouldn't try to kill you this early in the morning."

They heard the mudroom door slam and Ed instantly, reflexively stepped away from her. With his eyes on the door, he pushed Winry towards the hallway. "Go, go, don't let Alex know you were awake. He thinks you're still in bed."

Before she turned the corner, Winry asked, "Ed?"

He looked at her. "Yeah?"

She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "Thank you."

Ed paused, admiring her, and then pulled her in for a hug that was warm and strong and only slightly sticky. He tucked her hair behind her right ear.

"Happy Mother's Day, Winry."