Saturday mornings I feed the boys breakfast. They all like bacon, and some of them like pancakes. Since there are no two foods they all like, this meal choice is the closest thing to a winner. A box of donuts has a greater chance of universal acceptance, but there are only about half of all Saturdays when I consider donuts a meal choice.
Bacon and pancakes are not difficult for a man to cook. They are a considerable challenge for a man and three overzealous helpers.
The electric griddle must be plugged in, and we’ve got a guy for that. Big Man, the self-appointed plugger inner and lighter upper of all things, will lodge a complaint with his union if anyone else attempts to push the cord into the griddle.
Bacon is first on the cooking surface, and everybody wants a part of that wonderment. Bacon is nothing less than a miracle. All the disciples need to be near it, nurturing it along its journey to delicious. None recall how it spit grease at them last time – how could something so precious do a thing so uncouth? Daddy knows bacon’s dark side; the helpers are moved to pancake duty.
Forget the fireworks next July 4th. We’re all going to enjoy the thrill of cracking eggs.
Everybody wants to pour the pancake mix, but nobody knows when to stop pouring. I make them stand down and pour the mix myself, explaining I don’t want the whole box dumped out. It turns out the box is almost empty so I end up pouring it all into the bowl. “I could have done that,” Big Brother mocks. He’s right, so I quell my impulse to hit him over the head with the empty box.
The egg is the most coveted part of the entire pancaking process. I’m a remedial egg cracker. My wife bought me a special device to help me gain confidence. It was cheaper than a copy of Egg Cracking for Dummies. Everybody yearns to operate the egg cracker. It’s Big Brother’s turn. He cracks the egg flawlessly, but balks at the task of removing the slimy shell from the device.
My egg cracker for the Specially Challenged, with Big Man’s best Kilroy impression in the background.
Buster adds the milk as I hawk over him, shouting, “Stop, stop, stop!” after every few trickles, in constant fear he will let it all flow out into our bowl of pancake soup.
When Buster gets the proper amount of milk in the mix, or close enough, Big Man mounts his kitchen stool and stirs. I should be monitoring the bacon, but I’m busy keeping the bowl from sliding off the countertop.
Buster chides me for letting the bacon cook too long. I don’t believe it’s overcooked, but Buster is not completely confident in my ability to help him cook bacon.
We cook plain pancakes first. Then Big Man and I add blueberries. Big Brother doesn’t like blueberries. Buster only likes blueberries when they’re in a muffin I’ve been saving for myself.
Despite too many cooks in the kitchen, breakfast happened, but everybody lost their lust for helping when it came time to clean up.
The vast potential for growth in this job means he’ll be able to see what he’s mixing one day.
Snoozing on the Sofa 
Three boys learning to cook at their father’s side… is there a more beautiful sight? At least they won’t be relegated to eating ramen noodles 7 days a week in college. 🙂
They will have to choose between college and eating, as there will not be enough money for both.
Now I know why McDonald’s does breakfast all day long…..just load the kids in the car!
They’d wanna help drive.
Maybe next time you could have breakfast on the table ready for them before they get up. 😉
Yeah. That’s worth getting up early for.
Sounds like it! Glad you can find the humour in it anyway..
I gotta get something out of it.
Yes you do. Did you even get any of the pancakes or bacon?
Oh yeah. I’m still the alpha male.
That made me laugh.
I make pancakes too, sometimes…. usually not though. It sounds like more work than dumping cereal in a bowl with some milk. Your helpers are lucky kids! Mine, not so much!
Yeah, but I’ve got to get them to eat the cereal. Not so simple.
No waffles? What kind of parent are you? I’m calling CPS. Your guys are getting so big.
It’s too challenging to make bacon in a waffle maker.
Um sounds to me like you need to grow at least one more arm, Scott. Oh my goodness you have to have eyes in the back of your head. Your boys are just too cute but the thought oh my forgive me of having 3 boys like yours underfoot puts butterflies in my stomach and a huge urge to run in my feet. I give you all the credit in the world for what you are doing. LOVED this post FYI. I can smell the creative juices cookin’!!! LOL ❤
We’ve made lots of pancake breakfasts together and no two of them are the same. It never gets boring.
I can see that. 🙂
I bet those pancakes taste super yummy
Indeed they were!
So you are telling me you have an egg-cracking device? I’m at a loss for words.
Are your eggs tougher to crack than the ones we have down here?
They’re big, American eggs. So yeah.
bought in Texas no doubt.
And collected in a 10 gallon hat.