sunday breakfast

When I was younger, small versions of your typical Congressional session would break out in the diner when I would try to order chocolate chip pancakes for Sunday breakfast.

“Are you crazy?” “Don’t you think you’ve had enough chocolate?” “Can’t you be sensible?”

Yeah, okay, whatever lady-who-refers-to-herself-as-Mom.

Then,  I would proceed to pout, be uncooperative and drown boring pancakes in obscene amounts of maple syrup.

But here’s the thing, lady – now I’m older and I make the pancakes. And I say, I’m having mine with chocolate chips.

So, THERE.

And maybe I’ll even mix the batter while wearing shorts like these.

Whatcha gonna do about it?

 

 

 

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