I can’t remember the last time I had one. Maybe it was when I was still recuperating from my fractured tibia bone and I have no choice but to obey my mom’s concerned demand at that time. My doctor mom said that it would help accelerate my bone’s healing process but all I remember was me getting bloated having not just one cup but three glasses of milk everyday- one for each meal. OK, maybe it served its purpose but too bad it has its added effect on my weight.
I drink cold fresh milk. I really don’t know what’s with hot milk that makes me yuck at it! I remember eating my breakfast before going to school then alertly and secretly throwing my milk on the sink when my mom turns her back to get my baon from our little sari-sari store. Of course, I wasn’t too clever for my mom not to know it. She eventually figured it out and resorted to mixing Milo (a chocolate drink) and Nido (milk brand) just so I won’t pour it all down the drain. That option did help just a little bit as I still manage to sneakily empty the glass however and whenever I get the chance to do so.
While we were taking our family breakfast at one instance, I requested for a coffee from our house help. I can still imagine my mom’s reaction at what I thought was a cute and sweet little request. Well, I just gave it a try and luckily they granted my request with shallow threat that a constant intake of coffee rather than milk will deteriorate my brain. I just gave them a big grin, rejoicing over my first cup of coffee and never minding their threat. I did not believe them and I really didn’t care. I was still given the same old chocolate-milk drink following that event and I continued to exercise my little acts of shrewdness.
If they call it love at first sight, mine is love at first taste. I fell in love with my first cup of coffee. As I grew up, I would prepare my own coffee for breakfast frequently receiving the same old warnings from different people in the house. They never get tired while I got used to it, mastering the art of stubbornness. They finally gave up on me when I was in high school and became even powerless when I went to college in Cebu. Although it wasn’t for long, since my mom regained her reign as she has to take care of me when I was injured due to an accident (just another story to tell). She fed me with a glass of milk for each meal. I meekly submitted to her demand while we made a compromise with the type of milk she had to include in her grocery list.
I would drink each glass of milk all the way down, gulping as much as I can without really tasting even a bit of it. This is what happened this morning. I ran out of coffee in the office. I thought I’d get a cup at the vending machine but I have no money at all. So I opted to prepare a cup of hot milk, waited for it to cool a little and drank it all the way down.
I actually wondered how it tasted.
I drink cold fresh milk. I really don’t know what’s with hot milk that makes me yuck at it! I remember eating my breakfast before going to school then alertly and secretly throwing my milk on the sink when my mom turns her back to get my baon from our little sari-sari store. Of course, I wasn’t too clever for my mom not to know it. She eventually figured it out and resorted to mixing Milo (a chocolate drink) and Nido (milk brand) just so I won’t pour it all down the drain. That option did help just a little bit as I still manage to sneakily empty the glass however and whenever I get the chance to do so.
While we were taking our family breakfast at one instance, I requested for a coffee from our house help. I can still imagine my mom’s reaction at what I thought was a cute and sweet little request. Well, I just gave it a try and luckily they granted my request with shallow threat that a constant intake of coffee rather than milk will deteriorate my brain. I just gave them a big grin, rejoicing over my first cup of coffee and never minding their threat. I did not believe them and I really didn’t care. I was still given the same old chocolate-milk drink following that event and I continued to exercise my little acts of shrewdness.
If they call it love at first sight, mine is love at first taste. I fell in love with my first cup of coffee. As I grew up, I would prepare my own coffee for breakfast frequently receiving the same old warnings from different people in the house. They never get tired while I got used to it, mastering the art of stubbornness. They finally gave up on me when I was in high school and became even powerless when I went to college in Cebu. Although it wasn’t for long, since my mom regained her reign as she has to take care of me when I was injured due to an accident (just another story to tell). She fed me with a glass of milk for each meal. I meekly submitted to her demand while we made a compromise with the type of milk she had to include in her grocery list.
I would drink each glass of milk all the way down, gulping as much as I can without really tasting even a bit of it. This is what happened this morning. I ran out of coffee in the office. I thought I’d get a cup at the vending machine but I have no money at all. So I opted to prepare a cup of hot milk, waited for it to cool a little and drank it all the way down.
I actually wondered how it tasted.
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