My darling Mario turned nine years old last week. Whuck? Nine? That is insane. How on God's green Earth am I old enough to have a 'tween? (He labeled himself as such, not me.) Thank goodness for my Mom's good skin and my Grandmother's never-gray hair. But, I digress, this is about Mario's birthday, not my fantastic good looks.
I like to make birthdays as special as I can. The Goombas get to pick what they want for each meal and they don't have to do any chores. Mario chose Chili's for dinner and he wanted homemade pancakes for breakfast. Fine. Cool. I can do pancakes.
The night before, I made my batter and stuck it in the fridge. I got out my pancake pan and spatula (yes, I have a special pan and spatula just for my pancakes), and the new Cars molds that I bought. I thought it would be fun to make them some Lightning McQueen and Mater flapjacks. (He may be nine, but he still appreciates a fun-shaped short-stack.) Everything was ready and I went to bed.
The birthday boy came bouncing into our room at 5:30 a.m. Um, no. I hugged him and said it wasn't actually his birthday until the alarm clock went off. I am pretty sure he saw right through my lie, but he did go back into his room and read (not sleep, of course) for the next hour.
At 6:30 he came running back into our room to wake us up. I sent him to get Luigi and Peach, since they would be devastated if they didn't see him open his presents. I threw on some sweats, tried to rub the crust out of my eyes, and pleaded with Bowser to make me a cup of coffee before he did anything else.
We got downstairs and while the gifts were opened, I started on the pancakes. I am not even going to go into the disaster that was the Cars molds. Sleepy eyes, coffee-less brains, and birthday madness do not mix well with me before 7 a.m. I finally gave up on the Cars and decided to make him some different fancy pancakes. "I know!" my brilliant mind exclaimed to me. "I will make a nine for his ninth birthday! It's going to be awesome and he is going to love it!" Why, oh why, do I do this to myself?
I began carefully pouring batter into the pan. I was pretty pleased with myself. What a nice looking hotcake, I thought to myself. Score one for Daisy in the "Best-Mom-Ever" category. Bowser walked over to hand me my nice, hot cup of joe, and instantly burst out laughing. "What?" I asked grumpily. He continued to laugh and point.
"What IS that???" he asked.
"What do you think it is?" I spit back at him.
His giggles were getting a little annoying at this point.
"I made him a NINE, since he is nine years old!"
Then he grabbed my shoulders, turned me towards the pan, and said, "No you didn't!"
And then it hit me. Slapped me right across the face. THIS is the pancake I was going to serve my child for his birthday breakfast...
People, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried! I gave up and made regular, old, round pancakes after that.