My mom did a lot for us growing up, although I didn't appreciate it at the time, as most kids don't. She stressed the importance of having breakfast before going to school, which was one of the last things we wanted to do, as we wanted to sleep more. One of the things she would make for us, when the Wonder Bread was starting to go bad, was "French Toast". I truly dreaded those days. It was more like a slightly coated, soggy abomination to bread, and topped with...a kraft cheese slice. How is this french toast, I don't know, but that's what she called it. I would try to choke that down, but honestly, it was disgusting. Really disgusting.
Fast forward to today. Owen loves french toast, but I'm very adverse to it, I usually have MAYBE a bite, and just don't feel like having any more. It's not logical, I know, as what my mom made was completely different than an order of french toast at a diner...but...I still don't like it.
I went home for the holidays this past Christmas, and one morning I woke up...to the sound of mom saying, "GET UP! Hurry up and eat because I made FRENCH TOAST!" My insides did a somersault, I was filled with dread. My dad saw my hesitation, and he said, "Just think of it as "Chinese Toast". I think that helped. And I think my mom has gotten better at making it, or the bread wasn't as stale as it was in the past...here's a shot of it...

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