We used to go to breakfast at this diner near our house. And when Kate was four she started ordering the "Kids Chocolate Chip Pancake."
Turns out it was TWO chocolate chip pancakes. And they were huge.
She would dive in, happily chewing away. Determined to eat both pancakes in their entirety.
And for a while, everything would be going well.
Then pancake fatigue would begin to set in.
After some amount of time, it would become evident that she was NOT going to polish everything off. But did she stop? No. Instead, this is when she would enter full denial.
After some amount of time, it would become evident that she was NOT going to polish everything off. But did she stop? No. Instead, this is when she would enter full denial.
She would keep on going until she literally could not pick up the fork. Then she would flop back in her chair and issue dire announcements while the rest of us went about our breakfast.
She would somehow muster the strength to flop forward...
... raise her head... and psych herself up for round two.
When we saw this happening, we would try to deter her. Try to stop the madness. But it was futile; she had somehow found a second wind.
She would shovel more pancake in. And more. And more. Then, mercifully, things would slow down again...
And even she would be forced to admit that the dream would remain elusive.
After that we would head home, and Kate would need to lie ramrod straight on the couch for two hours. In a stupefied trance.
We haven't been to the breakfast place for a long time, and I just figured that Kate's goal would never be realized. So imagine my surprise a few weeks ago when I learned that she actually pulled it off.
I was away on a trip and called home.
"We went to breakfast," Jack informed me. "And Kate ate all the pancakes."
I was shocked. Shocked.
"NO!" I said.
"Yes," he said.
I couldn't believe I had missed this monumental event. How could I have missed it?! But then I pictured the scene - what it must have been like. And suddenly I wasn't sorry to miss it; I was thankful. I can't imagine it was pretty.
No, not pretty at all.
Then... like a phoenix rising...
She would somehow muster the strength to flop forward...
... raise her head... and psych herself up for round two.
When we saw this happening, we would try to deter her. Try to stop the madness. But it was futile; she had somehow found a second wind.
She would shovel more pancake in. And more. And more. Then, mercifully, things would slow down again...
And even she would be forced to admit that the dream would remain elusive.
After that we would head home, and Kate would need to lie ramrod straight on the couch for two hours. In a stupefied trance.
We haven't been to the breakfast place for a long time, and I just figured that Kate's goal would never be realized. So imagine my surprise a few weeks ago when I learned that she actually pulled it off.I was away on a trip and called home.
"We went to breakfast," Jack informed me. "And Kate ate all the pancakes."
I was shocked. Shocked.
"NO!" I said.
"Yes," he said.
I couldn't believe I had missed this monumental event. How could I have missed it?! But then I pictured the scene - what it must have been like. And suddenly I wasn't sorry to miss it; I was thankful. I can't imagine it was pretty.
No, not pretty at all.
2 comments:
ramrod straight. it's a familiar scene.
omg that is so funny. HAve to admit I was disappointed that the dark angel of projectile vomit failed to make a visitation though. But I suppose your reality can't satisfy my juvenille sense of humor. But not even a burp?
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