This morning I made pancakes.
I’m not a big dessert-for-breakfast type person myself. I’ll take a ooey-gooey, cheesey omelet over French toast any day. But this morning, pancakes were a-callin’ my name.
Not because I wanted them. Not even because I knew my kids would. But because I knew making pancakes this morning would force me to slow the heck down.
Pulling up the right recipe on my phone; searching for the dry ingredients in the recesses of my cupboard; allowing the first side to bubble just so before the initial flip – the execution of each step would require that I pause, just enough, to ensure that the entire batch didn’t go up in smoke.
Mornings in our home can feel hurried, even when we aren’t actually in a hurry. I’m not really sure why I frantically hand out breakfast bars and slosh coffee into a travel mug, as if I’m some sort of busy business lady who uses a planner and has to keep appointments, but I do it nonetheless. And I am here to tell you, a cheerful morning, it does not make. In an effort to remedy this, somewhere over the course of the last year, I’ve discovered, that the making of pancakes has the uncanny ability to trump the necessity of busyness that contemporary culture dictates. Pancakes have a way of bringing a hint of festivity to an ordinary morning and in doing so, they allow for the powdered sugar-laden consumers, both young and old, to be gifted with the unhurried whimsy of childhood – even if it is only for a few moments.
This morning I made pancakes. And we drenched them in magical syrup. And ate them with sticky fingers. And for a few minutes, we didn’t worry about the unwashed dishes in the sink or the un-watered tomatoes outside. For a few, joy-filled moments, we laughed with our mouths open and spilled crumbs on the floor. I listened to super hero-themed stories and giggled at jokes that really weren’t all that funny. It was a sugar-fueled oasis, where everyone was riding high, with no thoughts of coming down from the rush.
But come down we did. And I swept up the crumbs and put dishes in the sink. The boys bounded off to play and I put the magic syrup back in the recesses of the pantry.
Until the next time.