Pancake Pizza

On our way home from school Gio asks, "Where are we going?"

"Home," I say.

"I don't want to go home," he says. "I want Pizza."

"Well, I don't know where to get pizza around here," I say not wanting to make the effort to find pizza by the slice." I was freezing from surfing in freezer water and my blood sugar was dropping faster than my body temperature. Yes, I said freezer water, the temperature of water right before is freezes. Yes, I can now be found recreationally insane. (The judge smashes the gavel against her stand as the crowd screams, "Guilty!")

Being a problem solver he says, "let's go find some pizza."

Being a party pooper and serial fun killer I say, "No, we're going home."

On the way home, we both agree on pancakes for lunch, "but I'm only making pancakes if you let me write my blog right after."

"Pancakes, then blog," he repeats and agrees on the contract.

And for those readers who are thinking, "What?! She can't make pancakes! What is the world coming to if slacker Moms now make pancakes?" I know. I know. But it isn't as if I make them from scratch or anything. Phew!

Actually I have this new BFF (best friend forever) and she isn't a mean girl. Her name is Aunt Jemima. We are really close. In fact, she is smiling at me right now. I see her as somewhere between a human being and an angelic being. Yes, I still have my vivid imagination intact. Whose idea was it to get rid of imagination upon reaching adulthood anyways? Must have been some sort of grown up.

And due to pressure I also indulge Gio with syrup dipping sauce. However, I don't give him quite as much syrup as my husband gives him.

"What? That is too little syrup," Gio complains the first time I indulge his syrup sipping. To which I respond, "it's a little syrup or nothing." Reluctantly, and after plenty of screaming, he settles for a "little syrup." Also, I never give him a spoon with his syrup because we all know what will happen then.

We get home and make pancakes together, Gio, Aunt Jemima and me. She is so nice. I just love her. I feel a girl crush coming on. The song playing in my head is embedded below.


Stefan says he isn't even jealous, "because my ingredients are way better than hers." However, upon reading AJ's ingredients list he discovers, "Wait a second. She uses exactly the same ingredients as me." His last realization is followed by very loud silence.

I place the pancake in front of Gio who is sitting impatiently at the table when he reads my mind and says, "Hey this looks just like pizza."



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Score twenty points for parental creativity.

Thank goodness for mind reading children. If I had used words to sell my "pancake pizza," he would have never gone for it.

"No, I won't eat pancake pizza," he would have said in protest without ever taking one bite. "It's yucky."

In order for Telepathic Parenting^TM to work, the child must mistake the telepathic message as his own idea, not the parent's idea. Otherwise, Telepathic Parenting^TM is as ineffective as parenting with words and the end result is usually the opposite of what the parent desired in the first place. Also, tricky visuals are a bonus in getting the psychic message across effectively.

Good luck with Telepathic Parenting^TM. I would love to get some comments on real life uses of telepathic parenting, even unsuccessful ones. Any press is good press. Don't believe me? Go ask Madonna. She loves her haters.

However, I only recommend using this telepathic technique on one's own children, otherwise, readers run the risk of being accused of manipulation, especially by parents and spouses. And please don't even attempt to use it on me because I almost always do the opposite of what everyone thinks.