Winter Waffles

My maternal grandparents had nine children. When those children left the nest my grandparents moved into a smaller, two bed room house. I have not done the math, but I believe my aunts and uncles produced an average of six children. One couple made up for the slackers by having nine. On Christmas Eve there was a small miracle. The neighbors watching us gather at my grandparent’s house must have thought the scene resembled a circus clown car only the procedure was in reverse. Which is to say that everyone was entering the dwelling rather than exiting. I am sure the neighbors wondered how that tiny house could hold all those people. It is not like you can stack people. The miracle was the fact that we all managed to get into the house and socialize with each other in such cramped quarters.

We grand children sat on the floor, except for my cousin Paul who was lying prone. The reason why Paul was lying rather than sitting was because he started the day by making winter waffles. It was a recipe I knew too well, as did many other children of my generation. You start with the type of electric wall heater commonly installed in bathrooms during the nineteen fifties. The heater has a checker board grate or grill to protect the heating element. At least I presume the grate is there to protect the heating element. It did not protect the people using the heater, because the grate became almost as hot as the heating element did. The next item is a bathmat, which you place in front of the heater. After bathing or showering you grab a towel and step out onto the bathmat. Since most people do not enjoy staring at walls you turn your back on the heater. After drying your hair and upper torso you bend over to dry your feet or lower legs. If you did not dry your butt first, there is a sizzling sound, much like the sound bacon makes when you drop it into a hot frying pan. Whether you dried your butt or not the effect is pretty much the same. The heater still brands a waffle pattern on both butt cheeks. Hence the name “winter waffles.”

Judging by his discomfort, Paul must have done a pretty good job. I teased him about the possibility of his parents buying him bicycle with a banana seat for Christmas. It turned out that my jokes about him trying to ride a bicycle with a banana seat came true. His parents actually bought him such a bicycle. I know because I went riding with him after his butt healed enough for him to tolerate the seat.

I do not know if any of the girls in the family made winter waffles. None of them would admit to doing it, and I knew they would not let me check the veracity of their denials.

Merry Christmas, and happy holidays to all!

First published in macsbackporch.foxtail-farms on Dec. 15, 2009

This post is out of the original order because I was thinking of saving it for next Christmas