I neeeeeed pancakes!

"Don't take my pancake," Noah yelled in his sleep.

"I neeeeeed pancakes," he demanded. Unfortunately, he was no longer talking in his sleep.

Due to the fact he was just waking up and feeling grumpy I decided my old standby line, "Mommy doesn't make pancakes. Mommy makes breakie," (Fun name for French toast I made up to make up for my pancake inadequacies) probably would elicit more yelling and screaming.

So I said something I have never said before,"You want pancakes, OK I will make pancakes." What can I say, even I can melt under great pressure.

In my head, Make A Pancake, was playing.

He agreed to lay down on the couch while I magically came up with some pancakes. Do they need to taste good, I wondered to myself? About now I was starting to regret my decision not to buy pancake mix at the store. How could I just walk right by the pancake mix, I interrogated myself?

Then Jesus walked in. I often refer to my husband as Jesus because, yes, he is that good, at least relative to me.

I told him about the pancake nightmare to which he responded, "It was probably Stefan."

"Why do you always blame him," I retorted. Hey, I said he was Jesus, not God.

"I will make pancakes," he said to my delight and shock since he is the one with the real job. And he makes them from scratch. See what I mean about the Jesus thing?

By this time, Noah had fallen asleep and woken (yes it's actually a word) again.

"You didn't make pancakes," he suspiciously stated. And he was right. What can I say, he knows his Mommy?

(Mental note: Buy pancake mix, hide from husband because he just won't understand.)