Tales From the Dad Side: pancakes

Showing posts with label pancakes. Show all posts

8 March 2017

A Little Breakfast Magic...

Monday morning.

Yuk. And a change to the normal routine.

Mrs. Amazing is not taking BabyBoy2 and Boy9 with her as she heads off to save the world work.

Instead me and Miss6 have the dubious pleasure of their company.

Miss6 has requested pancakes.

In her nicest voice. I'd even been given a hug. Hell yeah I'm making pancakes.

We have pancakes a lot. On any day of the week. As it's a meal everyone will eat.

But Miss6 backed up pancake request with the argument that if we can pancakes on a Tuesday (Shrove Tuesday) we can have them on a Monday.

Fair enough.

Team Parent (yay!) only has one misgiving.

Time. As Monday Mrs. Amazing heads off early.

Still Miss6 did ask nicely. And I got an unforced or not-at-all-reluctant hug!

I head downstairs. Put awesome music on. Kettle on. Whisk pancake batter. Start cooking.

To save time I do three pans at once (oh yes, three). I've five to feed.

I ain't got no time for no one-pan crap.

Miss6: 'Daddy can you move this laundry for me'

... Yes?

Miss6: 'Can you move this...please'

Sure... Why don't you just walk around it?... <Glances over at frying pans>

Ok... Is that better?

Miss6: 'No'

<Moves it again> THERE? <Can see burning going on>

Miss6: 'N-o' <Sounds out the word>

Well h-e-r-e is where I am going to put it <Runs back to burning pancakes>

Mrs. Amazing: <Enters room> 'Oh! it's smokey in here'

Mrs. Amazing: <Opens every window everywhere>

Miss6: <Waves back>

(You know… <Looks at pancake batter>

I think this situation calls for Big Ol’ Beefy..

Boy9: ‘Ol' Beefy?’

Yep! Ol’ Bloody enormous-ENORMOUS frying pan)

I do three sizes of pancakes.

BabyBoy2 and Miss6 prefer small pancakes. It raises the Golden Syrup to pancake ratio I am sure. But also the bigger ones they struggle to cut up. And I'm fed up watching them shove the whole thing into their mouths at once and choking.

It's yuk.

Medium for Miss6 and Boy9. Miss6 likes variety.

And large pancakes for Boy9, Mrs. Amazing and me. Although all of Team Parent (yay!) will eat any size really.

However Miss6 has recently upgraded and now wants big pancakes.

So recent in fact. I did not know.

So as Boy9’s still not at the table. I give Miss6 of Boy9's large pancakes.

I am sure it will be fine.

Brainzilla: '... It won't though, will it?'

Lalalalala Not cooking anymore, it'll WILL be fine Lalalalala

Then Mrs. Amazing escapes leaves for the day.

Boy9 enters and sits...

[Sinister music plays]

[One millisecond has passed]

Miss6: 'I was looking at the trees outside'

OK... Move here. Look at trees. But most importantly EAT <Points at cold pancakes>

Boy9, I'll get your pancakes, just chill about Miss6, she was really looking at trees

<Isn't as convinced as I sound>

<Is swapping hands quickly> Here ya go!

Boy9: 'These are small pancakes?' <As though I have suggested he lick the toilet>

All the big ones got eaten... <Doesn't mention it was Miss6>

Boy9 does not take this well.

But I calm him down. It's been a weekend of sickness and bugs. He is going to be on the edge of burning fury. I am prepared.

He calms. And begrudgingly eats the smalls pancakes.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone so offended at having to eat, small, fluffy pancakes covered in Golden Syrup.

That drama resolved.

I find BabyBoy2 and tell him has to ask to get down the from the table.

BabyBoy2: 'Sorwee Daddy, sorwee...' <Head down, brilliant, heartfelt sorry>

Dude! It's OK... <Gives hair ruffle> Just come back to the table and ask to get down...

BabyBoy2: <Goes back to table> <Starts eating more pancakes>

... <Didn't expect that>

<Sees Miss6 NOT eating> Miss6! EAT!

Miss6: <Starts furious eating>

[Two milliseconds later]

Miss6: <Stops eating>

Eventually.

And amazingly before the end of time itself. All three children have eaten enough pancakes.

BabyBoy2 twice. Top work that boy. Gold star.

Boy9 is fringe on how much he has eaten. But a sneaky banana next to him is soon consumed. Miss6’s full too.

The hatrick.

Right Team! <Smiles weirdly by accident>

Let's all empty the dishwasher together!

I'll put rocking music on!!!

Boy9: 'F'Off'

No way.

I am not falling for this one. Letting them all go. I've cooked and served. I soothed and I've calmed. I am not being left with all the dishes to do. And there's some to put away. That I washed last night.

NO WAY!

Boy9 you pick a song...

I need Boy9 to buy into this.

The others look up to him, figuratively, speculatively and literally.

If Boy9 engages I've a pretty good chance with Miss6 and BabyBoy2 joining in.

Plus Boy9 likes rock. He picks 'Lukas Graham - Seven Years'.

Swing and a miss.

Great song.

Bad, bad choice for this moment. We need high tempo. Dancey music. I want to fill the room with sound and beats. If I can't boogie my way around the kitchen whilst I put away plates than what is the point.

Also the monkeys are more helpful when they are dancing about with me, putting stuff away.

However. I need Boy9. I reluctantly agree.

But then suddenly, and very suspiciously, Boy9 needs to use the toilet.

Seeing a chance to look doubly-good.

Miss6 brings her plate over...

... Thanks... But we gotta empty this first... <Opens dishwasher>

Miss6: <Mutters> 'Fairy poop'

I rule that Boy9 has missed his window.

Good. As he naffed off when everyone else started clearing plates.

Miss6 should have the next choice. As she did come straight over to help.

BabyBoy2 has arrived to help too.

(Boy9: Dad? Where does the sword-axe go?

Fifth stud from the right, between the knuckle-smasher…

And your mother’s weekend pike...)

But I am now on guard. And want to check what Miss6 may choose.

Just in case...

Miss6? If theoretically you were given the song choice, what would you go with?

Miss6: 'Trolls soundtrack!'

Oooooo... good choice... But we have already heard that today...

Twice… <Gives look>

I declare father-marshall-law and just pick something myself.

Something appropriate for how much I we all want to bounce around.

Also something I know we will all love. It only takes a few swipes on me phone to find something appropriate: Macklemore and Ryan Lewis - Can't Hold Us (it’s only link I could find that had the album version).

The track is only four minutes and eighteen seconds.

It's not long. And once it is done. Fights will break out.

Miss6 and Boy9 will come to loggerheads again. And again.

BabyBoy2 will have a right hissy fit over his socks.

And at some point I will ban Boy9 until the end of time from using the computer in the morning as he's so grumpy when gets off it. And for making Grannie Amazing wait.

Miss6 will forget she is supposed to be getting dressed for thirty minutes and make us late for school. And I am will be glad to get to work.

And I'm never glad to get to work.

But back... back before the rest of the morning happened.

As the first beat of 'Can't Hold Us' floated out of the speaker. As the opening drums thumped out and filled the air.

I cranked the volume up to twelve and the piano's melody started...

Boy9 appears out of the toilet.

Fist pumping.

I've arms up and I'm bouncing about.

We all are. Miss6 pretends to do the fast rapping. (It's hella cute). BabyBoy2 is fist pumping too. Moving with nought by raw passion.

Boy9's busts some excellent moves as winds his way over to us.

The joy of the music, mine, theirs, spreads and it builds on itself. Envelops us all.

Everyone is singing away. Not the right lyrics for most of us. BabyBoy2 is basically shouting stuff. But who cares!

Plates and cups are flying (safely) out of the dishwasher. And eight hands are making light work of a long job for one.

Whilst boogieing! (real word).

(All three children, and their combined help, represented, fairly I feel, as an octopus called Hank)

Miss6 is passing things to Boy9 that she cannot reach up to do.

Glasses. Mugs for tea. The precious stuff.

BabyBoy2 is carefully and lovingly included by Miss6 and Boy9 who leave things for him to do. Plastics mostly.

Miss6 stops what she is doing to guide him to the right cupboard.

They're so busy I can sneakily siphon the dry washing up on the sink, into what we are all doing, so we do that too!

#WIN!

Miss6 changes to clearing the table and loading.

I didn't even ask. All with a boogie.

She clearly doesn't want this moment with the music to stop. Nor does Boy9, he's helping her.

I stop BabyBoy2 from unloading the dirty plates and explain we are now filling.

He gets it. Ish.

For that song.

We are all dancing and singing away. In our own way. In our own styles.

It's really quite beautiful.

My lovely little loons.

7 July 2016

Nine? When the smeg did that happen? NINE?!...

Oh my rubber ducky!

Boy8 has transmogrified into Boy9

It was utterly disgusting. I can't believe it.

That's taken ages flown by.

So... how’s it feel being nine? <Gives Boy9 a friendly arm tap>

Boy9: 'Cool' <Punches me back>

ARGGHHHHHH that's my funny body! That hurt... <Runs>

Mrs. Amazing! He hit me!

Is there anything special, that you've learnt along the way, that you want to share?

Boy9: 'No... Why? Why do I have to share?'

You don't have to... <Powerlessly watches the situation escalate>

Boy9: 'Miss5 isn't sharing anything. Why should I share!!!'

Boy9: 'Argghhh!!!' <Storms off>

Boy9: <Slams door but sound is muffled by the door stop>

Boy9: <Hand reaches back in and moves door stop>

Boy9: <Slams door>

[BANG]

(That’s an upside down pancake 9... Only took three goes…)

As it's your birthday Boy9.

And as everyone should hear nice things on their birthday. I want to say want a brilliant big brother Boy9 is.

What a brilliant big brother Boy9 is.

There, nice. Done that <Dusts off hands>

One of Boy9’s most treasured possessions.

After his rubbers (erasers), a sticker from school, his minecraft books, some lint, his Nerf guns and bullets, and his illicit bluetack collection... Is a picture of himself holding Miss5 on the day she was born. That's hella sweet.

I love him dearly for that. Because it's made our life so much easier.

Oh! Don't think that Boy9 and Miss5 don't fight every chance they get.

Because they do. With vengeance*…

(* actually amount of vengeance varies)

Miss5: 'Stop looking at me!'

Boy9: <Is looking at Miss5> 'I'm not... You're looking at me!'

Miss5: 'Stop looking at MEEEE!'

Miss5: 'ARHGHGHHHHSTOPITSPOTIT!

Boy9: <Is really looking at Miss5>

Miss5: 'ARHGHGHHH!!!'

Boy9 stop being mean to your sister...

Boy9: 'I'm not' <Carries on staring> 'She started it'

... And Miss5 ignore him and stop staring back

Miss5: '... He's still staring!'

S-IIIIIII-GH <Tries not to explode in ball of anger and stress> <Pop>

That’s it… I’m getting the blindfolds...

Boy9 is just as kind with BabyBoy2 as well.

There is an element of Boy9 using BabyBoy2 as an excuse not to help with jobs, or as a distraction, or as a way to ignore me when I am talking, which drives me mad and makes me want to shove a pillow in his ear.

But only an element.

Well done Boy9 and thank you.

Team Parents (yay!) do not give you enough praise and credit for what you do for your siblings. Bad luck.

But know we love you 1.4% more for it.

As per my own made up tradition. Rather than basically puke out a list of everything showy offy about about Boy9. Which I could do.

But won’t.

Here's a list of all the stuff you probably don't know about Boy9.

The stuff that really makes him special...

1. Boy9 still gets up early

OH DEAR BACON! What the smeg is wrong with him?

Seriously. Can't he see how tired I am? We are? Isn't he supposed to copy what I do?

Take his lead from his Dad?

I sleep as much as possible, especially in the mornings. Why can't Boy9 copy that?

Everyday, just as the mean ol' sun has jumped into the sky and those rotten birds start screaming ‘Sex! You want sex? Come get sex!’ or whatever they are singing about (it’s sex trust me, and the Cat’s exact location), there's Boy9 wide awake stood next to our bed.

Full of grump energy, bouncing about, happy to start yet another day.

Happy to be alive and ready to embrace the day.

Who on earth has he inherited that from?

[10 years B.C. (Before children)]

Mrs. Amazing: 'MORNING WORLD!' <Leaps out of bed>

Mrs. Amazing: 'What a beautiful day! Tra-la-la-la-laaa' <Skips off happy>

<Pulls duvet over head tighter> <Whispers> Nutter...

For your birthday we let you get up five minutes early.
You were very pleased about it.

You nutter.

2. Boy9's music taste is excellent

It's very similar to mine and that's no accident <Is smug>.

However.

I know what you're thinking. I know. I know. It's not my fault, I was born like this.

One day Boy9 will develop his own music tastes and likes. It will be horrible.

But honestly I want him to. I want to hear what he loves.

Because one day when he will play me something I don't know. Something I haven't heard before, with a smile on his face, the beat bouncing his feet, the lyrics soaring in his mind, one day he'll look at me and say...

BoyTeen: '*What ya fink old man Dad? Rikkin beats snaz?' (* a guess at TeenTalk)

I have no idea what you just said?

BoyTeen: 'It's from Bieber's seventh Greatest Hits album, ya snaz?'

7th? <Falls to knees>

You Maniacs! You blew it up brought his albums!

Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!

<Weeps>

And I'll listen to what he has to play me.

He'll know how important this moment is. I'll know too.

He'll know that it will be his first big chance to stake his claim in my estimation as someone with music taste.

He'll want my approval. He'll want to know that his Dad likes what he is listening to. Even if his Dad doesn't quite get it.

He'll want my thumbs up. It will be a big moment.

I'll let you know how it goes...

You're joking right? This is shiiiiiit isn't good...

BoyTeen: 'Oh wait... Wrong track!'

Oh thank bacon butties! <Wipes brow> Phew!

What was that rubbish? It was terrible!!! Utter urghghhh!!! Was it Westlife?

BoyTeen: 'It says it was a band called Thunderpants?'

<Starts leaving> Never, EVER, EVER, heard of them... <Starts whistling>

BoyTeen: 'Hey... Weren't you in a band called that?

No <Runs>

3. Boy9 can beat most of the family at Draughts (chequers)

Not me, Obv(!).

Boy9 played my Mum at draughts. Over and over it was hilarious.

Having raised four boys herself, Mums competitive edge took over and it became quite the battle. They both fought hard and a clear victor emerged.

However I am too much of gentleman to tell or reveal to all and sundry a ladies losses like that. No no.

I will never tell.

4. Boy9 still sits with the remote in his mouth as he watches tele

I have told him to stop thirteen trillion times.

5. Boy9 has become big

The manure worked.

Sometime in the last five months a giant snuck into our house, at night, and pulled on Boy9's arms and legs. Pulled and pulled until they stretched. As Boy9 now seems to be part-spider part-boy. SpiderBoy!

Also Boy9 has become too heavy to carry upstairs by his ankles.

Which Mrs. Amazing never approved of anyway (wise woman). But Boy9 loved it for some mad reason. If I tried it now it would break me. That's a hard angle to carry a person.

And I doubt your ankles could take your own weight now. You big old sack of potatoes, you.

I can still carry you like a sack of potatoes.

(Mrs. Amazing: ‘Go on… Hit it with a paper…’

Sure

Boy9: ‘OW’

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Huh? A talking spider… Hit again...’

… Sure…

Boy9: ‘OW!’)

6. Boy9 is the house King of scooting

Sigh. This has probably been true for a bit. Maybe years.

Sigh.

Before I would have made loads of arguments of how I can do this, that, and ker-that better than Boy9. So I would still be the fool master.

But it's not true anymore. I have only one skill I do better on the scooter now.

I have better stamina.

And that's a lame claim to fame on a train.

Fastest? Not anymore, he goes off like a bullet.

Best tricks? No chance, I don't bounce.

Most gnarly? Naa...

But stamina! Oo. Yeah. Lame.

Only one thing comes to mind as being a real benefit for having high stamina, and it's definitely not scooting. <Giggles>

Boy9 you are the King of scooters now. Well done.

Boy9: 'This crown smells of choc?'

Shhh... <Shakes hands> Well done <Squeezes hand hard>

Boy9: <Walks off happy, but with slightly hurty hand>

Is he gone? <Checks he's gone>

OH CRAP IT! WHY WHY! CRAP IT!

Must practice more! That's it I'm practicing now! YEAH! Check this... woooahhh Ahhh... ARHGGHGGH!

7. Boy9 is a bit smelly and eww

Shocker I know.

It does seem that boys his age are all the same. A bit gross and disgusting.

Even by my low, low, low standards.

But his yukness reflects well on me. It's nice to not be the most gross in the house anymore. It's like a promotion.

For years, most scummy and smelly, has been my role and I've excelled in it. It's an unseen, and unspoken challenge of living with the opposite sex for the modern man.

Constantly getting looks of 'you're gross' and 'ewww... you're going to eat that?' isn't as easy as it looks.

I feel like the smelly and a bit eww man-torch is being passed on, from father to son...

(Queue the mood music... Press the button... No! Not that one!...)

My son, go forth and be smelly and eww!

Boy9: <Looks proud>

Pick your nose whenever you can.

Boy9: <Is already picking it>

Fart and laugh about it because it's funny and the man-way...

Sorry! Good point Miss5. Fart and laugh about it because it is our family’s-way!

<Mrs. Amazing shakes her head in despair>

8. The emotion fairy has been and he (oh yes, he) delivered smeg loads

EmotionFairy: 'Where'd you want it?'

You mean where do you want it? We don't want it. Thank you, not today!

EmotionFairy: 'No mate. I've anger, rage, sadness, guilt, jealousy, apathy, greed, rudeness and super-argumentative for a Boy9’

EmotionFairy: 'It’s the summer special!'

<Picks up fairy by collar> We. Don't. Want. It!

[Beep Beep Beep...]

EmotionFairyTruckDriver: 'Mind your backs' <Dumps all emotions from truck on floor>

EmotionFairy: <Grins> 'Too late... Sign here!'

Boy9: 'Oh brilliant!!! Thanks Dad' <Dives into emotions>

[A millisecond passes]

Boy9: 'IHATEYOU!' <Storms off>

EmotionFairy: 'See you next week'

What? NO! We don't want any more! Fur cough!!!

I hear the emotion fairy keeps on delivering.

Weekly. For the next nine years. yay.

Good luck Boy9. Just remember we love you even when Mrs. Amazing is holding me back, and then changes her mind, and then I have to hold her back.

9. Boy9 still scares the crap out of me

I am getting older. At some point healthwise. This has to stop.

Especially as Boy9 is now nine. Nine means his hiding is good. He now has stealth and planning to use. Gone are the days of seeing feet hiding sticking out from under a curtain. Unless it's a decoy.

Now you lie in wait for me… Armed (with a Nerf gun)...

(Photo taken a long time ago in a galaxy far, far our first house)

(N.B. Boy9 isn’t called Bjorn, he’s called Wombat Fury! YEAH!)

I can hardly remember life before Boy9 rocked up.

I think I slept more. Drank more. Ate less chocolate (lie). You were so cute and tiny, and sweet, and lovable, you completely changed Team Parents (yay!) lives. Thank you.

We've had SO much fun with you already.

We can't wait for more.

Sadly though I think, at present, we are the furthest apart we have ever been.

I don't like it and I am trying to fix it. But I think it's a bit you growing up.

A bit I've other monkeys children to train help grow.

I love you Boy9, my big-little boy, more than R2-D2 Optimus Prime. You rock.

Best buds forever despite how flipping annoying you can be at the moment!

(P.S. Boy9 don't mention the best buds thing in front of Miss5 or BabyBoy2 or Mrs. Amazing or the Cat I will deny it. Especially the Cat Mrs. Amazing).

Hi! <Waves>

8 March 2017

A Little Breakfast Magic...

7 July 2016

Nine? When the smeg did that happen? NINE?!...

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