Confessions of an Eight Year Old Pankcake Addict

 

0700 hours any Sunday of the year…

 

I wake up in a state of uncontrolled hunger. I crave but one type of food: Pancakes. Unfortunately I am eight years old and have a good deal of difficulty speaking, so I will have to use whatever resources are available to me to get my point across.

 

First and foremost, I need a ride to a breakfast joint. I believe that I’ll employ Mike for this mission. The problem is that he’s sleeping. I suppose I could just shake him until he wakes up, but where is the sport in that? I will shake a jar of change, or hit him on the head with a whiffle bat, or perhaps just hang on one of his limbs until he realizes that he had better wake up or it will snap off… “Oh, I hit you with my robot doll? How clumsy of me. Say, as long as you’re up, get dressed I want to take you for some Pancakes.” Of course, he only hears the word “Pancakes,” but he gets the idea. Mike starts to get ready.

 

Here’s the thing: because I’m only eight…yes, I have a car per se, but I pretty much let Mike drive it and keep the keys. In return, he pays for it, gases it and insures it. No worries, I don’t have many places to go except for when I yearn for Pancakes.

 

I know this may seem like a lot of work for an eight year old kid to go through just to get a hot breakfast, but I am a man of few passions. I like my TV set to Disney Channel, I like my pets to be hyper and I like my Pancakes served often. I make no apologies for who I am.

 

So, we arrive at what is possibly the greasiest restaurant in the Western Hemisphere, but they do make a decent silver dollar, which is perfect for me, because I am small in stature. A portly waitress greets me, “Hi, Sweety,” assuming familiarity because we frequent the establishment.

 

My reply is, “Pancakes!”

 

After we’re seated Mike has this ritual of pointing out every picture on the menu other than my beloved Pancakes. I allow it to go on for a few moments before I become cross. Mike points to a burger. “No!” He then points to eggs. “No!” Next is the salad…now see here! I grab his pointing finger and force it to the picture of a syrupy stack. I look him dead in the eye, and utter the single word: “PANCAKES!”

 

The waitress arrives and I order my food myself so he won’t get it wrong, “Pancakes.”

 

“Say ‘please,’ Shawn.” Oh, of course. Where are my manners? “Please.”

 

A few agonizing minutes go by and I finally get what my heart has desired for at least an hour. I deliriously grab the bottle of syrup only to find Mike has moved it from my reach. “Are you sure you want syrup?” Oh, for the love of all that is sacred…

 

When it is all done and we are driving home, all is forgiven. I can’t wait to play with my hyper dog.

 

 http://www.myspace.com/chanceransom

 

Reviews

[Carole]

Really enjoyed this write, Michael--All through the eyes of an eight-year-old that is unquestionably, undeniably in LOVE with PANCAKES. This is unique and I'll have to say one of the cuter writes I have read in a long time. Thank you so much for sharing. I am still chuckling!

This is my favorite of the piece...when I presume, your son-wakes you for the MISSION. The PANCAKE mission. He had one thing and one thing only on his mind, and I would rather imagine, from your write, that Shawn WON! Kudos to eight-year-old Shawn! I am also pulled in here because my oldest son shares his name, spelled the same...My mother always gave me a bad time for not spelling his name SEAN like Sean Connery, but hey--I liked the S H A W N spelling. Sounds like you did, too. :)

First and foremost, I need a ride to a breakfast joint. I believe that I'll employ Mike for this mission. The problem is that he's sleeping. I suppose I could just shake him until he wakes up, but where is the sport in that? I will shake a jar of change, or hit him on the head with a whiffle bat, or perhaps just hang on one of his limbs until he realizes that he had better wake up or it will snap off� "Oh, I hit you with my robot doll? How clumsy of me. Say, as long as you're up, get dressed I want to take you for some Pancakes." Of course, he only hears the word "Pancakes," but he gets the idea. Mike starts to get ready.

Anyway, thanks again for sharing. I needed the laugh--Great imagery all the way through.

[Angelheaded Hipster]

I have read this before I reviewed it....I like the set up, and I love the stubborness of Pancakes! Just pancakes...cause kids are obsessive little heathens, and they want what they want NOW. Not later, not yesterday...but right damn now...who cares if the house is sleeping, or busy, or whatever....
You captured a kids mentality perfectly! I love these kinds of stories, cause kids make me laugh....the things they say, they do...everything...just too damn funny.

[Greg the Bard]

Look I'm 5'9" and weight 485 Lbs and you just made me hungery. What are you trying to do kill me. LOL Just kidding this is a wonderful write and one you should print. I really had a great time reading it.

[Helen Woodward]

Yep, that is the mind of an eight-year-old boy! you've pretty much summed it up Michael. And I'm guessing you've been there? I love pancakes myself and make a good crepe! This is a lovely, easy read.
Thank you for the walk down memory lane with my own boys...
Cheers
Helen.

[Lydia Shutter]

Positively adorable!!! You have the personality of an eight year old down pat, that's for sure. Delightful story! Lydia

[~ Tex]

Well told. Cute. Funny. And sounds like a typical kid.

[Chem]

Seriously I need pancakes now.
Do you see what you've done?!

[TL Boehm]

this is too cute for words. I always suspected that I was just a pawn in the spawn's control (my eleven year old) and this confirms it. Syrup junkie, thats great. Lots of humor in this one. Thanks to Fran for sending it to me.

[onedreamaday]

ONE WORD: Adorable.

this is too cute for words and the love the narration of the eight year old.

[Beautifully Tragic xPoe..]

That made me hungry. Yummy.


Great Write.