English: Neil’s (Neil Kleinberg) blueberry pancakes, made at the Clinton Street Baking Co. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Mmm…pancakes, yes, I love pancakes. I always have, and until a board certified medical professional tells me I need to stop eating pancakes, I always will. Well, probably not. I digress.
As a kid, pancakes were a regular occurrence on Sunday mornings. I remember sleeping over my best friend’s house one weekend. His dad asked how many pancakes I wanted. My dad made large pancakes. My friend’s dad made them smaller. So out came the number “36!” I ate five and done.
When I went off to college pancakes weren’t always around, sad times. I couldn’t muster the ambition to make my own even when I moved off campus.
After college living in my apartment, no roommates, and unfortunately no steady girlfriend to impress, pancakes became a food group. Pancakes make an awesome dinner. They really do.
Fast-forward to a family of my own. Pancakes are now a delicacy. Not because they are difficult to make, but they are somewhat of a production. With a little guy needing much attention, the challenge is obvious. However, I strive to enjoy life and that includes enjoying a nice stack, of fluffy, blueberry-filled, smothered with butter, and dripping in maple syrup, pancakes.
I used to watch my dad make pancakes and when I was old enough, he handed the spatula over to me, always under his watchful eye of course. One day, I hope to hand the proverbial spatula over to Little A. A simple thing such as making pancakes brings back warm memories for me. I hope to use the same experience, to make warm memories for my son. Mmmm…pancakes.
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The Dad In Me 
Awww. That is lovely touching little story of pancake and you had it all the path in your life, I’m sure you will pass it on to your son.
Thanks for reading!
Love this read. I like stories about the little things in life. Its important to take time to reflect about the little things because they eventually become important. Thanks for taking time to share.
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