Many Saturday mornings my Dad made waffles. Real waffles. Waffles on a gigantic waffle iron the size of a sheet of plywood. But Dad’s waffles weren’t normal. They had personality. They often resembled Mickey Mouse, butterflies, and I vaguely recall my alpha/omega initials “AZ” being burned into those wonderful little divits. Breakfast is magic. What other… Continue reading 3 Reasons Why Men Make Breakfast