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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