My husband is the pancake man. When we wake up on the weekends one of the first things he will say is, "What do you want for breakfast? You want coffee? You want pancakes? Grits?" and then he will proceed to make me coffee and the breakfast of my choice. Today it is blueberry pancakes. While my husband skillfully cooks pancakes to perfection he also manages to clean off the kitchen table and counter tops.
Sam is playing on his blanket, trying to scooch to the toys I've placed at strategic distances from his starting point. Each one he finds he c hews on a bit to make sure it's to his standards. Occasionally he lets out a high pitched squeal to inform us that he is pleased with the toys as well as his reflection in the mirror. These are our weekend mornings now.
When we are done eating our blueberry pancakes and lazily sipping coffee that he makes just right - light with cream and a little bit of sugar - husband cleans the kitchen, puts away the dishes, and then straightens the living room. All I have to do is tell him what I want and he makes it happen. And that's what makes him happy. I've got the easy job - eat the blueberry pancakes my husband makes for me because it makes him happy. If I only we had grown up together I could've had it this easy all along!
So every weekend, I eat pancakes my husband makes for me and drink the coffee he brews for me and this makes the man happy...if only I were more like him.