Yesterday afternoon when I got home from work, I was WIPED. I sat on the couch and soon found myself sliding down to rest my eyes. It didn’t take long to realize that dinner needed to be started immediately or I would have a bunch of hungry gremlins on my hands.
I meal plan. When I don’t have a plan I feel all discombobulated. My entire week is thrown off. So last night’s plan was for a simple breakfast for dinner: pancakes and sausage. I started gathering my ingredients with a toddler helper in tow. You all know just how helpful that really is. The sausage started browning while I mixed up the pancake batter. While the hotcakes were doing their thing, George came over to reiterate for the millionth time that he was hungry. He saw the pancakes on the griddle and exclaimed, “I didn’t know you could make pancakes on the stove.”
Um. What?
I guess my kids are just used to the frozen pancakes I pop in the microwave. Had I really never made pancakes? I mean, I know I have. But not in recent memory. Had he really never seen me do it? Why was this so shocking to me? Likely because I grew up on pancake Sundays at our house or my Grandma’s house. This was such a regular occurrence that I have dreams about my Gram’s pancakes. If you were to ask any Ojo right now, they could tell you where to find the pancakes in that old Kedzie house.
While gobbling those pancakes, George kept going on and on about how they were so good. They were especially delicious when smeared with butter and topped with chocolate chips. Everyone ate dinner last night and not one complained. It was a simple meal that has been asked to be repeated for next week. That I can do.
Karyn In The Kitchen 