Where’s the Pancakes?

It was pancake day; usually Daddy makes the pancakes, but work had paged him… And I had lounged in bed a little longer than usual, which meant now there were two hungry little ones and a dog crowding me as I was getting all the pancake-making necessities out.  All I could think was, “Is there any chance I can make myself a cup of cocoa before starting this?” (I need my cup of cocoa in the morning the way coffee drinkers need their coffee fix.)

“I want peach oats!” cried Peanut as I was lost in my dream of hot caffeinated chocolate bliss.

“Are you sure you want peach outs instead of pancakes?”

“I want peach oats AND pancakes…” was the reply.  Since it was going to take a few minutes to even start mixing up pancakes and I can zap the oats in the microwave, I got out a bowl and stated getting her some oats.  The dog, all the while, kept following me, sure that something might drop into her mouth.

That’s when I heard Monkey grunting.  I thought he was pointing at the pancake stuff, so I told him, “Mommy’s going to make the pancakes in just a minute, Sweetie.”

“UGH!” followed by adamant pointing at the counter.

“I know…” I said.  Ding!  “Your oats are ready, Peanut.  They just need to cool off a minute.”  The dog started to whine in the background; I went towards the utility room to feed her.

“I need my milk, Mommy!”

I gently reminded her she could get her own milk from the refrigerator, to which she replied that she wanted me to get it for her.  Knowing she was hungry, and trying to avoid an early morning breakdown, I went to get it out for her.

“Brea –!”

“Did he just say bread?” My son is obsessed with cars, and until just this past week or so he said “car” for everything (except Mama and Dada).  Now he says 2 or 3 new words every day.  It catches me off guard…  And since he actually said the word, I had to get him a piece of bread… Was I ever going to get my cocoa?

“No!!!!” He tossed the offending bread on the floor, where the dog happily snatched it.  I was still pretty sure he had said “bread”, so I looked more closely at what he was now pointing at.  What…Oh! Then I remembered my husband had given him bread with honey the night before.  After squeezing some honey on a fresh piece of bread, he gobbled it up.

A second bowl of oats, another piece of honey bread, and two sippy cups of milk later I decided there was no longer a point in making pancakes.  I put away the eggs, milk, pancake mix, and bowl and made myself a couple pieces of toast with peanut butter to go along with the cocoa I finally had in my hands.

That’s when my husband came upstairs and asked where the pancakes were…