If You Give a Boy a Pancake

Kent and I like food. I've addressed this topic before. I am a breakfast foodie. I like beginning the day with good food, and in the morning, I have plenty of energy to whip up a nice breakfast for my family. (By late afternoon, however, I'm too worn out to enjoy making another meal, which is why the slow cooker is my friend. This also explains why we have a lot of pasta on the days that the slow cooker didn't make it out of the cupboard.)

As a result of genetics, #5 is also a breakfast person. Today I discovered just how far he takes it.

Let me back up for a moment, though. When #1 was a preschooler, she coined the term baby pancakes. They are the little drips of pancake batter that end up cooking between the larger pancakes on the griddle. All the kids have called them "baby pancakes" since then. And they love calling dibs on these bite-sized flapjacks.

This morning I was in the dining room washing down my banana-pecan buttermilk pancakes with fresh squeezed grapefruit juice--yum! #5 trotted to the kitchen to see how many pancakes were left. There on the griddle was the last of the batter: two regular-sized pancakes and one smaller one, which was the result of running out of batter. The small one was about 2 1/2 inches in diameter.

#5 came back in with a silly grin on his face, telling me how cute and cuddly baby pancakes are. I had to call him on it.

Me: "Really? You think pancakes are cute and cuddly?"

#5: "Baby pancakes are."

Me, trying to antagonize him a little bit: "How small are baby pancakes?" Pinching my fingers into a 1/4" circle I asked, "Are they this big?" He nodded. I circled my fingers to a one-inch diameter. "How about this?" Another nod. When I made a bigger circle with both hands, he went back to the kitchen and returned with the smallest pancake cradled in his hands. He was smiling so sweetly and making cooing noises at the pancake.

#5: "This is the biggest that a baby pancake can be. Isn't it cute?"

Me: "If they're any bigger, they are kid pancakes?"

#5: "Yes, and you can eat them."

Me: "You said you like to cuddle with baby pancakes?"

In response, #5 smiled, nodded, and hugged the pancake.

I was taken back a little by how sincere he seemed. So I decided to press it and see if he would give up and just laugh at how goofy he was being.

Me: "Aren't you going to burp your baby pancake?"

#5 burped it.

Me: "You know you'll have to change it's diaper."

#5: "I know. But it's not poopy right now. Look," he said, pointing to some holes where the pancake had bubbled while cooking, "Here are his bum holes."

Me, diverting the conversation from going THAT way: "HIS bum holes? Your pancake is a boy?"

#5: "Well, I don't know if it's a girl or a boy. Let me see...what is the name?" Then he went into a thoughtful stare.

Me: "You could name it Chris and then it could be a boy or a girl."

Obviously, I was missing the point that #5 wasn't creating a gender because this pancake already had a gender.

#5: "No. His name is Tyler." Then he proceeded to coo to Tyler and hug him/it again.

I put my forehead against #5's to see if he would give in NOW, and crack up at how silly he was being. He just kept hugging that pancake.

At this point, I decided to play meaner.

Me: "You know, [#5], I bet Tyler is pretty tasty. Don't you even want to lick him to see how yummy he is?"

#5, still in his sweet and cuddly voice, and showing no shock at my suggestion: "No. I'm never going to eat Tyler."

Me, taking a big bite of the pancakes on my plate: "Well, I'm eating Tyler's big brothers, and they taste so good!"

No reaction.

Me: "Aren't you worried that when I'm done with these guys, I might want more?"

#5, still unconcerned: "I'll just keep him in my room where you can't find him."

I decided if this kid was going to stick to his story so convincingly, I should just give in.

Me: "I'm concerned that if your sisters come home and see a pancake, they might eat him. But, if you leave him out in the air, he'll get dry and hard so no one will want to eat him."

#5: "That's a good idea! Then I can have him forever!"

Before he left to find a dry hiding place for Tyler, he let me take a picture of the two of them. (Disclaimer for Nate: I only got #5 to agree to the picture by promising that it wouldn't show up in the family DVD next Christmas.)

Luckily, his request became my proof that #5 knew he was being ridiculous, because I was starting to worry about his pysche. I'm glad that he can be ridiculous with me and doesn't care how silly it makes him look. Or maybe the kid simply cares more about Tyler than about his own reputation!

(Too bad #5 didn't think to make me promise not to publish this story on the world-wide web.)