The monster is sleeping; the monster is awake.

My brother and I used to watch the process with some fascination. Dad didn't let us touch the waffle iron, but the way he handled it was cool. He'd plug it in, let it warm up, then dip his finger in a glass of water and shake a drop onto the smooth chrome top. When the drop sizzled and danced, the waffle iron was ready.

An amount of batter, maybe half a cup, went in the center, then Dad would lower the top. We always laughed when extra batter sneaked out onto the sides of the iron. Dad always let the dribbles cook, then he'd snack on them while the rest of the waffle finished; sometimes he'd share.

There was a little round light on the top of our waffle iron. Even at a young age, I identified it as being like a Cyclops. My brother, being younger and somewhat less inclined toward mythological stories, didn't know what a Cyclops was, so Dad explained that it was a monster. "With one eye!" I added, as if Dad had forgotten to mention the most important part.

He had just scooped in the batter and lowered the top, so the light went off. J. pointed and said "The monster is sleeping!" We all laughed. I said that when the monster was awake, the waffle would be done. From that time on, we'd always watch the light and note the wakefulness of the monster on waffle Sunday mornings.

I made waffles this morning. I still say "The monster is awake!" when one is ready.

before - after