In my house growing up, special days always began with special breakfasts.
Today, the empirical evidence is clear that eating breakfast is a good thing, but back when I was little, it was more of a parental hunch. I remember test days at school – the ERBs in 2nd grade, the PSSAs in 4th grade, the PSATs in 10th grade, and the SATs, SAT IIs, ACTs, and APs in 11th and 12th grades. 
On test mornings, my mom sent my dog into my room earlier than normal to jump onto my bed and wake me up with a curious lick or a paw in the face. Downstairs in the kitchen, my dad was the master egg-scrambler, always assuming that I could down 4 eggs in a sitting. I remember him telling me that his eggs were sure to give me the extra protein I needed to keep my brain running during endless hours of staring at a Scantron sheet. Continue reading
palate gal 