My boy loves breakfast.Â He can gobble up lumberjack quantities of pancakes,Â waffles, and french toast, along with bacon by the handful.Â And he can do it fast, even faster than me.Â He nibbles the rest of the day, but theÂ boy sure does he eat in the morning.Â It get’s particularly ugly on the weekend when there is a big stack ofÂ my from-scratchÂ pancakesÂ in the center of the table, and both of us are eyeing the carb-laden pile of yumminess.Â (We don’t worry too much about mommy, she eats like a girl in the morning and a starving orphan at night.)Â The boy takes one at a time to myÂ four or five, as it should be given that I’m more than four times his size.Â The problem is that I work my stack like a surgeon, cutting perfect bite-sized morsels, while heÂ cramsÂ an entire pancake into his mouth, chewing intently as he picks out his next one.Â We tell him to slow down, but breakfast is his time and he’s focused.Â Eventually we get to the last pancake and by this point mommy has excused herself from the table to leave us to our caveman antics….
“Daddy, can I have that?”
“What?”Â I know darn well what he wants.
“Devin, you’ve already had quite a few pancakes, aren’t you full?”Â I want the last one.Â I’m the big strong father, king of the kitchen table, eater of large amounts of food.
“No.Â Can I have that now please?”
Damn. You can’t deprive a hungry kid of foodÂ this early in the morning, so I relent.Â But not before one last psychological attempt at getting what I want.Â I’m not proud of the following, but my pancakes are really good.
“I don’t know why I’m giving this to you, little guy.Â Look at you, you’re getting so fat.”Â He ponders this for a moment.
“Yeah, a littleÂ fat – just like you Daddy.”Â It hit me slow, thoughÂ I still didn’t see it coming.
Touche little dude, touche.
(For another fun pancake-themed post by a guy with two little mouths to feed, click here.)
Well played young man. Well played.
Something I can look forward to.
BWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! HE got you daddy!
well, you know they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.. looks like he had a good teacher.. score one for Devin this time.. too much fun brother 🙂
Dang. You’ve got to bring your a-game dealing with this youngster.
now that is a young huster in training. LOL
My husband decided to go on a diet when our oldest daughter started playing what she called his “belly drum”. I’d better get to the gym before she tries to make a musical instrument out of something on me! LOL
Kids are WAAY too smart these days. They know our weaknesses as parents, that’s for sure. What a comment designed to ensure you don’t eat the last pancake on the plate!
You know what else comes to mind? I’m thinking how my mom would have popped me in the lip if I’d ever even hinted that she was a bit on the plump side…in fact, I think I did once and I recall that she straight-up smacked me back to the 1970’s. But, my boys joke all the time about mommy’s squishy tummy and I laugh along with them. I don’t think they mean any real harm though and it is, like Mrs. J said, a reminder that I need to bust out the running shoes again.
I have been there before!
Now, I know you saw that one coming. (Didn’t you?!?)
Ah, you and LA Mommy would get along real good. She’s a pancake freak! LA Toddler has followed in her footsteps. Me? I’m a waffle man.
Waffles have dozens of little cups to hold the syrup, instead of get all soggy like a pancake.
But… breakfast is the most important, they say. Whatever you can get ’em to chow down on, run with it. It’s dinner that my little one boycotts.
What’s so sad is my daughter doesn’t even wait ’till I give her permission. There’s the, asking…then next thing I know…the little hands grab whatever it is off my plate and by the time I catch it…all I get is a big teethy smile and a 4 year old laughing at slow mommy!!! I tried hiding food from my daughter…but darn it if she doesn’t have the nose of a dang bloodhound!
hey brother.. gave you some play on my blog today, check it out.
They are all greedy crumb snatchers I tell ya! Dads get no respect when it comes to the food, they just gooble it all up and want whats on your plate! My 7 year-old is like a eating tornado, but hey they have so much energy that it is like fueling a NASA space shuttle.
LOL at—mommy, she eats like a girl in the morning and a starving orphan at night.
loved this post!