Making Pancakes

     Earnhardt is almost twelve. That means he's 8 in girl years, right? When I was almost twelve, I was being paid a dollar an hour to watch my three cousins, one who was only a few years younger than I. We broke a fish tank. That gig ended after that.
      Occasionally I test the theory that Earnhardt might be old enough to babysit his younger brother, Carson. I go grocery shopping and leave him in charge, things like that. I recently tried an experiment and had them get their own lunch while I was away. I'm thinking PB&J sandwiches....
     Over the phone: "So, did you guys have lunch?" Yeah. "What did you have?" Pancakes. "What??" I made pancakes. "Huh? You did?" Yeah, but we didn't have enough Bisquick so I kind of had to wing it.
"What do you mean, 'wing it'?" Well, I wasn't sure how much flour and whether to use baking powder or baking soda... "What did the recipe say?" It didn't say on the Bisquick box so I just tried to remember. "Huh? Did you use a recipe?" No. "No?" No, I just tried to remember how Um-Um (Joel's mom) did it when she made pancakes so I put in a cup and a half of flour, half a cup of sugar, two eggs, milk... "Wait, you made pancakes from scratch? Without a recipe???" Yeah. But I wasn't sure about the baking powder or baking soda so I didn't put either in and they came out a little dense but they're still good. We saved you some. "Thanks. (I think) Dense?" We saved you ones without the Goldfish and marshmallows. "What?" I put Goldfish and marshmallows in them.

      I'd like to say this says something about me as a parent. That this kid of mine not only attempted to cook for his little brother but made something from scratch without a recipe. He's spent some time with me (and Um-Um) in the kitchen. He's confident with himself and the stove. He's responsible. He likes marshmallows. I'd like to say I taught him that confidence, that responsibility, that vocabulary... but I think, instead, it says something about me as a kid. I never would have attempted such a fete at his age. I wouldn't have gone near the stove. I probably would have waited for mom to come home and complained about how hungry I was. I would have just gotten by.  I certainly didn't know what dense meant.

     Maybe, just maybe Earnhardt's generation isn't as bad off as I once thought, not being able to survive without cell phones and X-box, Kindles and computers, Froot Loops and Pop Tarts. Maybe they can still be taught, if not hard-wired, to make more than toast. Maybe he'll be able to do laundry before he reaches college. Already he asks me, each and every day, how my day was when I pick him up from school. I wrack my brain trying to remember what I had for dinner as a kid, what I did to help out around the house, when I learned certain life lessons and I usually draw a blank and yet somehow I feel like my own two boys are packing away every piece of information like this. I say this because I get quizzed on it daily; "Do you remember when, Mommy, you dropped me off at Lisa's house to take Earnhardt to the theatre and she made gingerbread men with me?" "Do you remember when I didn't want to go to Nana's and stay over night that time and you said I had to because you had something to do and I was okay?" "Do you remember the time Daddy had the keys to the Tahoe and we walked to McDonald's?" I do remember and I wonder what else they remember. How else they are watching and learning from what I'm doing? It makes me realize I need to be especially careful now that I see I'm under such scrutiny. I think I might be a role model and it makes me wonder if I might be able to take a little credit for their wonderful little selves in the long run.