I made banana pancakes for lunch today. They were originally for breakfast, but there were so many interruptions that breakfast became “cereal in bag” while I doggedly worked away at the pancakes. My children think “cereal in a bag” is a special treat. Their very own portable ziploc of cereal. They have no idea that it’s my “take this and get out of my hair” trick.
The banana pancake recipe was a complete experiment. The idea was originally Samantha’s, and though I’d never heard of banana pancakes before, I decided to make it happen. I won’t be sharing the recipe. They were edible, with maple syrup. Samantha loved them enough to eat three platefuls. That counts as success, right. If you ever find or invent a banana pancake recipe, please share it with me.
I tried to freehand a banana shape for the first two. Banana pancakes! Get it? I’m just brilliant! Yeah. Samantha looked into the skillet and said, “Mom. Get me a banana, and I’ll show you what a banana is supposed to look like.” I’m not going to tell you what they looked like. Definitely not bananas.
So, I tried pouring plain round ones next. “Uh, Mom? That’s not a good look for a pancake.” Seth is beginning to get tired of his toys, and telling me about it. Breathing. Breathing.
Now I remember why I don’t make pancakes when Josh isn’t home. And it’s not about the kids. Pancake cooking mystifies me. Skillet after skillet of misshapen sticky pancakes in varying shades of doneness, from slightly raw to slightly burnt, continue to pile up on the plate. “Oooh, that one looks like a fish!” Samantha switches into fish voice, and narrates the rest of my disaster. “Noooo! Don’t flip me! Why did you do that to me? What about my family!?” Seth is getting louder. I have no idea where Simon is, but I’m getting nervous with his silence. I am so thankful I decided to go with half the recipe.
By the time all that was over, I declared it five o’clock somewhere. I am hiding from the dishes, and wishing dinner time could wait until tomorrow.