|Or maybe it should be The Breakfast Saga.
Sid and Lincoln have been requesting pancakes for months, but I’ve been ignoring them because
Then, I came across a Spelt Pancake recipe. I had 50 lbs of spelt, so I decided to give it a whirl. While I was at it, I doubled the number of eggs the recipe called for to up the protein. I didn’t have much hope of these pancakes passing muster, but lo and behold, the children loved them. So I made them when Sid was home for breakfast one morning . . . . and . . . . and (holding by breath here) . . . . . . he gave the thumbs up for taste.
I was thrilled. I could move mountains. No challenge was too great for me, the maker of these beautiful, golden, fluffy, healthy pancakes.
Until Sid casually stated his preference for a flatter pancake.
Our eldest son, who greatly reveres his Dad, then decided that he too prefers a flat pancake. But our sweet, sweet 2nd son still likes to please his Mommy, so he sided with me. The girls don’t really know enough to state preferences yet. They just gobbled their pancakes down, so I claim them for my side.
Anyway, I dwell on this pancake problem often. I know, I’m not a lofty-goal person. I’m a simple-goal person. And dog-gone-it, I just want to make a healthy pancake that the 6 people who live in my house can enjoy. Okay, really, just 2 people, because the 4 little people have to eat what the two big people eat.
So I was thinking, I could make the pancakes the way I like them for me and the majority and then water down the recipe to make flatter pancakes for the 2 male dissenters. Then the thought crossed my mind . . . . what if I made mostly fluffly pancakes and only a few flat ones . . . like not enough flat ones to fill Sid and Sidney up? Then, they would either have to go hungry or grab a nice, beautiful, fluffy pancake to eat. And what if . . . .over time, they came to prefer my gorgeous, mouthing-watering, fluffy pancakes? Then, all would be harmonious in our household, atleast for a few precious moments at breakfast when I serve my spelt pancakes.
While I’m making these grand, manipulative schemes . . . . do you know what my blessed offspring are doing with my pancakes?
They are testing my precious pancake’s “slapability.”
And where, you might ask, do they get these notions?
Sigh………………from their father.