Waffles
CRASH! Wong started awake. He picked up his watch from the nightstand and gazed at it blearily. 8:30 AM. So this was what people meant when they talked about jet-lag. His whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. He had only had five hours of sleep, and he wasn’t going to get any more because he needed to get his body clock onto New York time.
And it hadn’t been good sleep either. Wong had been correct in his idea that toddlers do not take up much space in a bed. The issue is that they can’t decide which space that they want to take up, and every time you get comfortable they change their minds. Suddenly Wong remembered. Stevie. He looked over beside him but Stevie was missing in action. He heard another crash from the living room and remembered what had woken him up.
He rushed into the living room fully expecting a broken vase or perhaps the shattered fragments of a crystal ball that had been Earth’s only line of defence against a terrifying demon. But luckily, all he found was Stevie sitting in a pile of LEGO bricks. Wong glanced at the bricks and recognized them as being part of adult Stephen’s Sherlock Holmes LEGO set, which he had bought so he had something to focus on when speaking to people from his usual chair.
Stevie heard Wong enter and turned to see him. When he saw him, he smiled a simle that was almost too big for his face. “Wong!” he said. “Come see, come see what I built!” And he held up a small house, nothing compared to the set that the bricks had once belonged to but perfectly respectable for a three-year-old. Wong didn’t know much about children but he did know that you are meant to praise everything they make for you no matter how bad it actually looks, because what matters is the effort they put in. He took the house and pretended to scruitinse it. “Excellent work, Stevie,” he said. “You’ve made good use of the colour and I especially like the trapdoor you put in here.”
To his surprise the boy teared up and looked like he was going to cry. Unsure what he had done wrong, Wong changed the subject. “Stevie,” he said, “I love what you’ve built but you can’t keep the bricks on the floor like this. They will get lost and then you won’t be able to build the set again. Come along, I’ll help you clean them up.” He conjured a box and with a swift movement of his hands sent all the bricks flying neatly into it. Stevie, his tears forgotten, gazed in wonder. “Wow!” he said. “That’s so cool! I’d never be able to do that!” “Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Wong, smiling as he remembered how the small boy in front of him had taken on one of the most formidable demons in the cosmos and come out victorious.
Leaving Stevie in the company of his LEGO, Wong went over to the sanctum kitchen to see about breakfast. It was a beautiful, oak-panelled room, built to feed dozens and warm the entire house. There was even a wooden sink made of teak, designed to not damage crockery like a metal one would. Unfortunately, for all its size, the kitchen did not contain a single scrap of food. Its only occupant had been Dr. Strange, who was a terrible chef and generally chose to partake of his favourite local deli over his own cooking. Wong returned to Stevie, who was now attempting to build a robot. “I think we will have to go out for breakfast,” he said. “What would you like?” “Waffles!” said Stevie happily. “Alright, let’s get you into some outdoor things,” Wong replied, having no idea what a waffle was.
20 minutes later they were finally off. Wong could not recall a time when it had taken him longer to leave the sanctum, except for once when Arioch had barricaded the doors in an attempt to trap the Ancient One. A major contributor to this face was that all Stevie’s winter clothes were far too big for him, and in the end Wong had given him a broach set with a Fire-Gem to keep him warm. In lieu of shoes he had also had give Stevie the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr, which gave the wearer incredible powers of jumping but more importantly could resize themselves to perfectly fit their feet.
Having gotten out of the sanctum, their next task was finding a restaurant that served waffles. Wong was just starting to wonder how one might do this if one did not know what they were looking for, but luckily he saw a large sign across the street saying Waffle House.Wong guessed that adult Strange had probably frequented this place for breakfast, hence Stevie’s enthusiasm about eating waffles for breakfast.
They went inside and sat at a table. Wong was slightly concerned that the sorcerer’s robes he and Stevie were wearing would draw attention to him, but he needn’t have worried. This was Greenwich Village after all. The table next to theirs was occupied by a woman in full Victorian dress, and across the way a man in a full suit of armour was eating pancakes without a care in the world.
A waitress with a delightful Texas accent came over and took their orders. “Mornin’ fellas,” she said. “What’ll you be havin’?” Wong opened his mouth to order but he was too late. Barely able to contain his excitement, Stevie said, “WAFFLES!” with a yell that shook the rafters. The waitress barely batted an eyelid. Stevie might have asked her for the latest stock prices. “Alright, two waffles,” she said, scribbling on her pad. “What what you like on them? Butter, maple syrup, Nutella, ice cream, peanut butter...” Wong grew more and more confused as the list of choices grew but Stevie came to his rescue and asked for maple syrup. Wong then ordered a large glass of milk for Stevie and an espresso for himself. While he enjoyed the occasional cup of coffee, he had never yet felt tempted to try what he had heard described as “coffee squared” but he felt that he needed the energy. The waitress took one look at Stevie, then at Wong’s tired face and said, “I’ll make it a triple.”
The waffles arrived and Wong realized that what he was about to eat was similar to the griddle biscuits he had occasionally purchased from street vendors in Hong Kong. He had never eaten one with maple syrup however; generally griddle biscuits are served with butter, sugar and peanut butter. Once again taking a cue from Stevie, Wong took the pitcher of maple syrup and poured it over his waffle, making sure to fill all the little depressions. He elected to use a knife and fork where Stevie tried gamely to use his fingers, and as he watched Stevie become progressively more covered in syrup he felt he had made the right choice.
Breakfast over, they left the Waffle House and summoned a taxi. It was time to go shopping. Stevie’s miniaturized robes had served well so far but these were now drenched in syrup, and it was clear that he would need more clothing. After climbing into the taxi, being careful not to make the seats too sticky, Wong asked to go to the nearest shopping centre. The driver took them to the Manhattan Mall, a large three-story building in Chelsea, just brimming with oppurtunities to spend money. It promised to be an expensive day and Wong was glad he had raided Kamar-taj’s emergency vault before coming to New York.
First up was the shoe shop. Stevie looked adorable in the toddler-sized Vaulting Boots of Valtorr but they did offer him supernatural abilities, and given the choice between a 3-year-old who could jump over a two-story building and a 3-year-old who could not, Wong felt that it would be prudent to get him out of the boots as quickly as possible. He was concerned that Stevie would not want to give up the boots (he adored clumping around in them) but a pair of sneakers with wheels in them caught Stevie’s interest entirely. Wong felt it would not be prudent to give him that combination of speed and crashing ability and managed to talk him down to shoes that lit up as you stomped in them.
The time came to pay and Wong headed over to the checkout where a cashier rang him up. “That’ll be $53.64 please,” “The label said $45,” said Wong. “Label don’t include taxes,” replied the cashier. Wong sighed and dipped into his stash from Kamar-taj. “Do you accept gold coins?” The cashier raised his eyebrows. “Sir, if you wanted to pay in gold coins, you shoulda voted for Ron Paul.” “I’ll be right back,” muttered Wong. He ducked behind a mannequin and quickly mumbled an incantation that turned the coins into dollar bills of equal value. Paying for the shoes, he changed Stevie into them and hastily tossed the Vaulting Boots through a portal back to the Sanctum before they could do any harm.
Next on their shopping list was a tour of all the different clothing outlets the Manhattan Mall had to offer. Wong let Stevie choose everything and, while he had to rein the boy in in terms of volume, he generally approved of his choices. He noticed that Stevie had chosen a lot of music-related items, and was intrigued, since music was not a characteristic adult Stephen had really shared with him. Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. Here, after all, is the man who introduced me to Beyonce. Stevie also picked out a navy winter coat with red trim, which looked so exactly like his normal sorcerer outfit that Wong went across the way and purchased a digital camera to photograph him in it. Whatever happens, he thought, I will never let him forget this.
He also bought himself a few sets of American clothing, because, he reasoned, he needed to keep a low profile too. If people outside Kamar-taj realised he was in New York and not Nepal, it was only a hop skip and a jump to the realization that the New York Sanctum was without its Master. As he was checking out the cashier made a remark to the effect of, “When in Rome, do as Rome does.” Wong looked at her curiously and said, “Am I not in New York?” She shrugged and Wong resolved to never again talk to a New York cashier.
After clothes shopping was complete, Wong decided it was time for lunch. After opening a portal to the sanctum to drop off the clothes. He turned to Stevie and said, “Alright Stevie, as a special treat, you can choose what we have for lunch as well as breakfast.” Immediately Stevie yelled, “PIZZA!” in the same earth-shattering tone he had asked for waffles with that morning. Pizza was another food that Wong was unfamiliar with but Stevie was already pulling him over to a pizza stand near the mall. He went up confidently and asked for a slice, and the man behind the counter handed him a segment of pizza bigger than his head. “What do you say?” said Wong. “Fnnk yrll!” said Stevie, which was as close he could get to “Thank you” with a mouth full of pizza. The man called him a good kid and gave him a lollipop.
They went to Chelsea Park and ate their huge pizza slices in silence, watching the ducks on the pond. Stevie wanted to feed them but Wong said no, they didn’t like pizza and we can come back with duck food later. After getting about halfway through his slice Stevie declared himself stuffed and almost instantly fell asleep on Wong’s shoulder. Like Wong, he had only had a few hours of sleep the night before and he hadn’t had an espresso to carry him through. As Wong finished Stevie’s slice for him, he suddenly felt a great deal of responsibility for the little one sleeping on his shoulder, a thought that was quickly augmented by the need to get him eating properly. Pizza tasted excellent but any food with this much grease couldn’t be good for you.
So he picked up a still sleeping Stevie and carried him over to a street vendor selling material. Buying a length of sky-blue cotton he fashioned it into a sling and managed to get Stevie inside without waking him. After consulting the street vendor, the two headed for Chelsea Market, where Wong acquired a cookbook of Asian recipes. He had never cooked anything in his life but at least if he had eaten the dishes he was going to attempt that might give him a leg up. After perusing the cookbook for a while, he spent a couple of hours wandering the market gathering ingredients. Having got everything he wanted, he stepped through a portal back to the sanctum and spent another hour or so filling the once empty sanctum kitchens. Finally having finished, he collapsed on the sofa to take an afternoon nap of his own.
A few hours later, Wong awoke feeling refreshed and also feeling the weight of Stevie, who had manoeuvred his way on top of Wong’s chest. Wong nudged him gently awake. “Come along, Stevie,” he said. “We need to make dinner.” Stevie got up laboriously, a little grumpy at being wakened. “Would you like to help me?” Wong offered, and Stevie immediately brightened. After putting on aprons and washing their hands, the two set to work.
Wong decided to cook chicken chow mein. Stevie was put in charge of the chow mein sauce, since Wong didn’t want him handling raw chicken. There was salmonella, after all, and Stevie’s hygiene was on par with his fellow toddlers - that is to say, it was awful. But he was happy with his job, though he spent more time playing with the cornflour than actually mixing sauce. The kitchen almost seemed pleased to be used again, and though the New York winter meant it was already dark outside the room seemed filled with a warm light.
Eating the chow mein proved more difficult, for Stevie at least. Wong handled the chopsticks like a pro but Stevie might as well have been eating with golf clubs. Despite Wong’s efforts to teach and Stevie’s efforts to learn he was not much better than at the start of the meal, and he managed to get more food in his lap than in his mouth. But Wong was patient and made sure to compliment him on the progress he had made, a move that seemed to upset the boy. To cheer him up, Wong used magic to clean up the kitchen, which was an easy feat since the crockery was already enchanted.
Dinner over, it was bedtime. Despite their naps eariler, an early night seemed inevitable as both Wong and Stevie struggled to keep their eyes open. Stevie was dressed in his new astronaut pyjamas, which looked so cute on him that Wong almost regretted not getting him the matching duvet cover set. Stevie requested a book, and so Wong brought out his old copy of The Hobbit, which was the only book remotely appropriate for a toddler. Tucking Stevie in, he began. “In a hole in the ground their lived a hobbit.” But there was already a tiny snore coming from the small bed, and soon after there was a much larger snore from the bed next to it.