Tod sat at the counter, watching as Amy went about preparing breakfast, pulling out bowls and ingredients. From the refrigerator she pulled eggs, milk, and cheese, and from several cupboards she pulled spices and spoons as well as a large red box which Tod noticed read “Waffle Mix: Family Sized”. She poured a healthy measure into a bowl, added several eggs, some milk, and some spices before placing a spoon into the mixture, its handle settled along the edge to keep it clean. She placed it in front of Tod and looked him in the eye.
“I need your help stirring this, Tod. I need to hunt down the waffle-iron, as I'm sure Daddy didn't put it back where it belongs from when he last used it...And I'm quite sure I'll need to scrub it too, after last weeks fiasco with the vegetables...”
Arthur cleared his throat, and Tod could hear a touch of indignation in his voice.
“Excuse me, young lady, but I happened to have come across an interesting recipe that required the use of the waffle-iron.”
“You were ironing vegetables Daddy.”
“That's what the recipe called for!”
“You nearly burned the house down Daddy.”
“Well, I cooked it like the instructions said, and I finished preparing the meal, didn't I?”
“If you remember, Daddy, we ended up eating out that night because the 'recipe' was terrible.”
Amy, hiding a smirk from their father's ruffled frown, turned to Tod, speaking in a hushed whisper that was meant to be heard.
“Daddy tries to be a great cook, but usually we end up eating out whenever he tries his paws at cooking.”
“And I'll have you know that we've eaten at nearly every restaurant in our neighborhood because of my delicate culinary expertise.”
Tod turned and looked at Arthur and saw that he was not only serious, but proud of his boast. Hiding a smirk of his own, Tod pulled the bowl of waffle batter close and began stirring it vigorously. Amy searched high and low, and soon emerged from a cabinet on the other end of the kitchen holding a waffle-iron, curious charred objects stuck to its edges. Tod's sensitive nose picked up the odor of burnt plants, and he had to try hard not to sneeze. Amy stepped over to the sink and, with a flick of her dainty wrist, turned on the water and began scrubbing the misused appliance.
Tod worked furiously on stirring the batter, despite the large size of the bowl, and the thickness of the batter. But, regardless of the pup's determination, his shoulders soon began to ache; his wrist and fingers became sore, and his arm numb. His stirring began to slow, the batter no longer sloshing about in the bowl but merely spinning in a lazy circle in time with Tod's spoon. Thankfully, just as Tod was beginning to give in and give up, Amy spun back in front of him. Giving him a wink and a peck on the nose, she took the bowl from him.
“Thank you Tod, you did a good job! I appreciate that, by the way, it helps me get our food out faster...”
Amy stepped away and placed the bowl on the opposite counter and plugged in the freshly washed waffle-iron, and Tod couldn't help but stare agape at his sister. He had received a thank you for what he'd done. And a compliment as well! Tod had never really been complimented for a job well done before, merely a look that said “you just avoided the beating this time,” and those were commonly administered by his parents. His sisters, when he didn't, or couldn't do what they asked, simply went and told on him, which earned him a beating, if he was lucky. Of course, Ashton and Terrance didn't much care. They would simply beat him to the brink of consciousness, whether Tod had completed the job assigned to him or not, and then walked away laughing.
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