Back before we had kids - when The Dad and I had all the answers - we made a deal. Whenever our future four perfect kids had sleepovers, I'd do the late night stuff as I was the night owl. I'd be the one who'd change the movies out, pop the popcorn (with extra REAL butter!), order the pizza. I'd be the one who'd comfort those little homesick sniffles, and I'd be the bad cop and decide when enough was enough and the lights were going out.
The Dad? He's a early bird, so he'd be in charge of the morning stuff - basically, the frozen waffles.
In our little, simple pre-kid minds, we had it all figured out.
And then we had The Daughters (two, not four... basically because we didn't lose ALL of our minds)!
Not too long ago, The Daughters had a BIG sleepover. Prior to this, we had a few sleepovers with a few friends... just one or two at a time, though. THIS sleepover was BIG.... We had about six girls, including our own. Since I wanted it to be super special, I ordered the good kind of pizza and had the latest movies on hand. I let the girls play with my make-up (it's one way to get new cosmetics!). I had cookies and candy and popcorn enough to last for three weeks!!
Oh - and instead of frozen waffles, I had the real stuff ... ya know: The kind of waffle mix that you just add water to! It wouldn't be brain surgery, but it'd be more than just the pop of a toaster.
That night the girls played and giggled and fought (they are girls after all!) and giggled some more and ate and played and giggled. About midnight, the first little girlie slipped off into slumber and soon, the rest followed close behind. One little girl refused to go to sleep and kept waking up the others, so I even had the chance to be the big, bad momma. I threatened to take her home, but she reminded me she was already home.
Morning came early for The Dad. Seven AM is always early in my book, but even for The Dad, it was early considering it was a weekend! Especially early considering that his wife kept waking him up with reports of how well (or not so well) the sleepover was going. But he was a sweetheart, and when Daughter 1 came in to tell him that the girls were all up and ready for their pancakes, he let me sleep.
So I did.
I slept right up to the point where Daughter 1 returned to our bedroom and proclaimed, "This is ridiculous! Daddy doesn't know how to make pancakes and we're starving!"
I remembered our arrangement, though, and knew that my duty was over. So, I mumbled, "Tough Cookies, Toots. I'm off duty", rolled over and squeezed my eyes shut. Softly, Daughter 1 sighed and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Before she shut the door behind her, I heard her whisper, "Sleep Tight, Momma Dear. And thanks for the best sleepover ever!"
Then I woke up from that dream to the stomping of Daughter 1's foot and her exclaiming, "DO SOMETHING! He's ruining breakfast! And we're starving!!"
Fine! Since I would eventually have to eat breakfast, I didn't want it ruined for goodness sake, so I dragged my sorry, sleepy self out of bed and to the kitchen where I found one very frustrated Dad.
"This stupid mix is way too watery! The pancakes are too thin to do anything with! And the instructions are stupid. I want night duty!" Then he claims to have been wiping pancake powder from his cheek, but I know he was wiping tears.
I looked over the batter, and it was water-thin. I grabbed the box and the instructions weren't any different than they have been ever since my Uncle Sam Walton created the "Just Add Water" brand to my morning routine.
"You followed the directions, right? Did you think you were making a double or triple or sextuple batch?" I questioned.
The Dad half-snorted and said, "I did follow the directions. But I don't know how they expect much of anyone to follow the directions. They're stupid! Pancakes are stupid! Fractions are stupid!!"
Now - stupid is not a word we use in our house, so I thought it was pretty funny that The Dad had reverted to being a fourth grade boy and was now using it in front of all six of these hungry, impressionable little girls.
I looked at the box. Nothing too complicated here. "It's the same as always," I said comforting to The Dad, "1 cup of mix, 1 and 1/3 cups water."
The Dad chocked back a sob, "Yeah, but it's...What? 1 and 1/3?"
I nodded my affirmation and began adding more mix to the watery, watery paste as the sleepover girls were beginning to pick up popcorn kernals off the carpet.
The Dad grabbed the box from me and looked closely at the directions. He studied the numbers up close and then at arm's length. He finally and sheepishly said, "I thought eleven-thirds was a weird amount of water!"
*****
PS from The Dad:
OK, fine. I did add 11/3rds cups of water to 1 c of pancake mix and Minivan Momma had to come to the rescue. This is true. BUT, she doesn't always pay close attention to directions either. Last month, she told her mom she'd help her make cheesy grits for a potluck dinner. And let's just say, the six servings of grits? Well, her mom is STILL eating grits to this day!
