I really hope my kids knew what they were doing when they picked me for their mom.

I made pancakes this morning.  Okay.  And by made I mean the frozen ones that you put on a plate and cook in the microwave.  Geez…I’m not all June Cleaver up in here. 

So…I’ve buttered them…and have syrup on them…and I’m cutting them.  When somehow there was like a jolt in the space/time continum and the plate slipped…causing the pancakes to become airborne.  Being that it was early in the morning my ninja-like reflexes weren’t sharply honed…so they landed on the floor.  Smack in the middle of the pile of floor sweepings I had just scooted in the corner with a broom.

I’ll be honest with you.  I probably looked at those pancakes for a good 10 seconds…wondering if they could just be put back on the plate…crunch and all.  I mean…kids need fiber right?

Until I hear a voice say…’mom…I saw that…I want new pancakes’. 

I don’t think most kids need to monitor their moms on this stuff.

Just sayin…