Dylan told me he was starving. “Well, what do you want? French toast?”
“Only if it is in little rectangles and comes from Burger King!” Dylan declared.
“Not gonna happen. How about pancakes, then?”
“Pancakes are BORING. I want something different, like pancakes that taste like pumpkin pie!”
Hmmmmm. I put a cup of their favorite dry pancake mix in one bowl. I broke an egg in another bowl, mixed it, then added the vegetable oil and milk. I opened a can of pumpkin and put three tablespoons in the milk/egg mixture, and stirred it in. Then I added 1/2 tsp. of cinnamon, 1/4 tsp. of ginger, and maybe an 1/8 tsp. of ground cloves and stirred it all in. Then I thought about it, and added maybe one to two tablespoons of sugar to the flour mixture so that it would be a little sweeter. Then I dumped in the pumpkin/egg/milk mixture, mixed it with a whisk, and ladeled the pancake mixture onto a hot cast iron grill that had been buttered.
“So, young man, do you want syrup on the new pancake taste treat that you have created? I dunno if it will taste good or not.”
“That’s okay, Meemaw, I will eat them anyway, even if they are yucky. Can we put whipped cream on top?”
“Sorry, Dyllie, you ate all my whipped cream last weekend and I forgot to get more!”
“Well, how about marshyellows on top? You HAVE to have marshyellows!”
I admitted that I did, in fact, have marshmallows and would be happy to sprinkle them on top of the pumpkin pie pancakes. I asked Jacob and Zoe if they wanted marshmallows on top of theirs, too. Yeah, that was a VERY silly question!
Papa got up as I was cooking the second round of pancakes. “Dylan invented a new recipe for pancakes this morning. Have one!”
“What is it?”
“A pancake. It’s a….” which was as far as I got before SwampMan, who does not leap out of bed spreading sunshine and light through the house, grumped “You KNOW I don’t want pancakes!” and stalked to his lazy chair, in which he flopped.
Dylan’s face fell. He looked down at his plate. He really wanted Papa to taste one. Time for a come to Jesus meeting with SwampMan in which I quietly explained, through smiling lips and gritted teeth, that Dylan would be VERY disappointed if SwampMan did not taste a pancake, and I, in turn, would be quite distressed if Dylan were to be caused any pain since he was so very proud of himself. SwampMan repented the error of his ways, more or less.
“FINE!” SwampMan grumped. “You got a little one?”
“Yep, I have one about the size of a fifty cent piece.”
“Bring it”, he said with a total lack of enthusiasm.
I went back into the kitchen.
“Hey, this is REALLY good, Dylan!” SwampMan said. “It tastes like pumpkin pie!”
“That’s cuz I invented pumpkin pie pancakes this morning!” said Dylan. “There were no pumpkin pie pancakes anywhere in the world before now. And it was my idea!”
“Hey, you got two or three more of those pancakes? I’d like more!” said old grumpybutt.
“You want ‘em Dylan style?”
“I’m afraid to ask, but what is that?”
“With marshyellows, butter and maple syrup.”
“Good gawd, no! I mean, I’m sure they’re very good that way, but, Uh, just some butter and a sprinkling of powdered sugar, please.”
“Yeah, those marshmallows were a substitution for whipped cream, which is what he really wanted.”
“The boy has good taste, except for the marshmallow thing!” opined SwampMan. Unfortunately, I don’t know, since I can’t eat wheat. I have to judge how it tastes by smell alone now.
The boys were deciding what they would invent for breakfast tomorrow. I heard the merits of brownie pancakes and peanut butter cookie pancakes being debated. Oh, my. I better hit the grocery store tonight for ingredients.
In the meantime, I have been to the dollar store to purchase hot pink Dora faux crocs for Zoe because Zoe lost one of her very cute shoes, and I had promised the boys I would take them to the store and let them pick out seeds to plant. The boys got new shirts because it didn’t seem quite fair to get new shoes for Zoe and they get nothing. I believe that they are wearing those new shirts along with their good pants out in the barn where they and Papa are painting their BB and .22 gunstocks camouflage. Facepalm time. After removing the facepalm, I noticed the missing shoe wedged underneath Papa’s lazy chair.
The boys got hot dogs at a vendor outside the hardware store. Zoe did not want a hot dog. I don’t blame her. The hotdog vendor guy was a little scary looking.
When we got home, I went through some options for lunch with Zoe. “NO!” was the response to pretty much everything. *sigh* I had forgotten an important point about dealing with 2-year-old tired, hungry, grumpy toddlers that miss Mommy. The answer to every question will be “NO!” Don’t ask ‘em what they want or whether they want something. Just fix it and feed ‘em.
I looked down at the tearful little face raised up to mine. Hmmmmm. We needed something FAST. And we needed something that she likes. I glanced around the kitchen for some quick inspiration. Bananas on the counter. Oooooh, she loves bananas. Bread on the counter, too. Hey, if peanut butter banana sammiches were good enough for Elvis…. Two minutes later, a half sandwich of peanut butter and banana is made, the crusts cut off, and it is cut into a pretty flower shape with a cookie cutter. It’s a girl thing. Anyway, PB & B was gobbled down and more demanded.
The boys will be inside any time now demanding food. Usually when they ask what’s for dinner, I answer something like flaming hog balls, chicken nostrils, or eyeball soup. It doesn’t really matter what I say, one or more is going to say “I don’t LIKE that!” Finding that you are getting broccoli and rice instead of “steaming pile of goat entrails” would probably make it seem a little more desirable in comparison, ya think?