And who invented pancakes?
Legendary!
Today I babysat two little boys. It's a regular thing, so no nasty shocks or unexpected surprises to share. I always arrive prepared for mud, dirt, slime, food on the floor, food on the furniture, food in my shoes...
smelly nappies...
grubby fingers in my hair...
yelling noises in my ear...
fingerprints on my glasses...
quivering biceps... ["ok, time to walk. Can't you walk now? Please walk! I'm putting you down NOW."]
Ah yes, it is good. Why?
I'm prissy. A little princess. I wash my hands a hundred times a day. I sprinkle lavender essential oil around the house. I hold my breath and close my eyes really tight when I see mould. I always call for dad or brother when there is a slug, spider, snail, or millipede that needs to be exterminated. Dirt in my fingernails makes me cringe, and emptying the compost leaves me nauseous.
When I clean the toilet I use half a bottle of spray plus one bucket of vinegar water with several generous scoops of laundry power thrown in for good measure.
So a little bit of vomit, blood, poop and spit once a week balances me out a little.
Sugar and spice and all things nice...that's what little girls are made of.
Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails...that's what little boys are made of.
[So my great grandma used to tell me. Then she'd give me scented soaps and pearl necklaces (see? it was reinforced.)]
Today we made pancakes. The boys got a big morning tea. I got a little life lesson.
Exhibit A:
The Mouse turns on the TV to distract the two little boys. She then professionally scours the kitchen for supplies and places bowl, whisk, eggs, measuring cup, and pancake mix in readiness on the bench.
She rips open the box and is about to open the mix. Tug on elbow. Boys are no longer at TV. Screeching sound behind her and suddenly she is shoved out of the way by a two year old with a stool. "We're helping!"
Er, fine. This could be cute! [Famous last words].
Exhibit B.
Three bodies jostling for space at the bench. The Mouse opens packet. One boy pours it into bowl. Half of packet pours onto bench. Whoopsie daisy, that's okay!
Other boy begins playing with the eggs...hey! put those back! They're breakable!
One egg cracks. Whoopsie daisy me, that's okay!
Exhibit C.
Boy maintains he can crack the eggs. I relent [famous last act of kindness].
Three eggs are cracked smartly on side of bowl and promptly splat on bench. Shells land in pancake mix.
Whoopsie eek daisy! That's okay!
Exhibit B.
Older boy does the whisking. All is going smoothly. Mouse begins to breathe again.
Two year old wants a turn. Fine. All is going smoothly. "What a great job you're doing!" [Famous last words of affirmation].
Half the mix suddenly is inexplicably flung into the air and messily hits wall.
Flippin whoopsie meat pies, that's okay!
Exhibit C.
The Mouse does the frying. The TV is turned up REALLY loud to maintain a level of distraction away from the stove. The first pancake burns. {Whoopsie.....}
Boys find maple syrup bottle and begin to pour while Mouse's back is turned.
"WOAH! SEAS OF SYRUP! Lay off guys!"
Exhibit D.
One and a half rolls of paper towel later... the dishes are done, bellies are full, and The Mouse has to laugh at herself. And eat another pancake.
Life lesson learnt today: chill out and stop being a priss. No one else knows where that pancake mix has been.
[Well, except for you. But you don't care about lint and bench crumbs and grubby fingers, do you? Didn't think so.]
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