I knew this was merely “morning-I’m-too-young-to-have-coffee-and-I-still-need-to-eat-breakfast-itis,” but I’d have to break through her stubbornness first. The best approach is deliberate wierdness, to take her off her mood.
“How about one of each? It’s a very Catholic breakfast.” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you get a half a bagel and one waffle, so it’s a full breakfast, but it’s not either or. It’s both and.” She gave a brief smile, but she wasn’t ready to concede yet.
“I don’t want them.” She said. “I really want two waffles. This is only half a serving.”
“If you eat half a bagel and one waffle, it’s the same as a whole serving of breakfast, it’s just two component parts.”
“I don’t want part of a waffle breakfast.”
“You will get a whole waffle.” I put it in the toaster.
“Don’t toast it too much, you’ll ruin it.”
“Then, it would be an awful waffle.”
“Yes. Do I get butter and syrup?”
“Of course, how else would you eat a waffle? Happy with your breakfast?"
"Glad I could help. Unfortunately, all waffleness will disappear once you eat it. Though it might not be digested yet, it will no longer be a waffle.”
She looked at me, “Can I have half the bagel too?”
I debated cutting the half a bagel in half, but opted to just serve her the rest of breakfast.