Twenty summers ago I made myself pancakes every day over vacation. I couldn’t get away with it now, but it was awesome and I kind of miss it.
When the twins were little I’d make them pancakes (or, as Twin 2 called them, “panpakes”). This was less pleasant. Serving a brace of toddlers breakfast is like being a waiter in Hell Restaurant.
Less enjoyable still was when, last year, Twin 1 asked me to play a song on my phone. Propriety forbids me from stating its title; suffice it to say my commotio cordis ended only by learning she innocently sought a parody, “Waffles and Pancakes.”
You know what’s fun, though? The “biggest pop-art extravaganza to shake North America in the past decade.” Thursday, May 18. Me and my buddy Scott will be selling t-shirts. Stop by and stop, buy!
PS ask about the friends and family discount. I’ll tell you to eat your pancakes and pay full price, but Scott’s a nice guy. Maybe ask him.