Blueberry pancakes =survival of the human race?

I’m sitting here cooking blueberry pancakes because, well, what’s Saturday family brunch without blueberry pancakes?

I love my kids unconditionally. That doesn’t stop me from occasionally wishing they lived in a fenced-in house in the back yard.

Because I love my children so much, I decide that it would be super cute to make silver dollar blueberry pancakes for the the girls. You know, because they’re small, and the girls are small, and they’d both be small and cute together, or whatever…


Silver dollar pancake nightmare

Ok, great. I’m an awesome mom, right?

My affection for the Helpful Toddler temporarily blinded me (gosh, this happens a lot) to the number one rule regarding Things You Know Toddlers Will Be Excited About: don’t tell them until it’s ready.

Part of my brain sounds like this: “Remember when you were so excited the tomatoes had appeared that you told CE about them? And then had to spend every 30 seconds of outdoor time thereafter (unsuccessfully) chasing her curious hands away from picking all the really big green ones? Yeah, this is just like that.”

The other Gollum-like half of my brain weakly tries to justify with a “But it’ll make her happy… I know, I’ll blurt it out before I stop me!”

And then I failed rule number 2: under no circumstances give said toddler a foretaste unless you are willing to COMMIT.

“Can I taste one, peeeease?”
Back of brain (b.o.b.): “Nnnoooooo!”

For some strange reason I don’t want to spend all of family brunch time sitting at the stove cooking, just to eat cold pancakes by myself afterward.

Therfore we got to spend the next 20 minutes having this conversation over and over and over again:

CE: Pease I eat?
Me: No, thank you. We’re all going to eat together.
CE: Daddy, pease I eat?
IJ: Your mother just told you no.
CE: Mommy, I hungry. Pease I have da oth’r one?
Me: No.
CE: total meltdown
b.o.b.: See what you did?  I can’t take this. I’m leaving.

It’s probably a good thing my common sense leaves in some of these situations. It must be a survival instinct for the human race that ensures that we not only won’t set toddlers free into the wild, but will feed them adorable tiny blueberry pancakes on Saturday brunch.

This forgetfulness eventually also leads to thinking having MORE is actually a good idea. See? Survival instinct.

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One Response to Blueberry pancakes =survival of the human race?

  1. Pingback: Motherhood is so easy, a Rocket Scientist couldn’t do it. | Sourdough Lifestyle

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