Far more interesting than the pancakes themselves (though I'm inclined to admit they were phenomenal) was watching the various pancake consumption techniques employed by the yung-uns. N attacked voraciously, usually with a fork, but he was certainly open to more manual techniques. No quantity of maple syrup would have been excessive.
L, however, had really filled up on the batter from the spatula and licking the bowl. By the time the pancakes arrived at the table she made a half-hearted attempt at one, then with her second, proceeded to carve out - with a skill to make a surgeon proud - each individual blueberry, leaving behind a precision pancake shell filled with holes, each with only a trace of purple edges to indicate what had previously inhabited them. Kind of an edible coral reef.Meanwhile Mommy sat back and enjoyed her pancakes, but all the time wondering why it is that Daddy can never be content with foodstuffs that don't result in the defacto dye-ing of our children.
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