The last time I went home, I babysat my oldest brothers kids. I had this glorious idea that I would cook everything for them, including the desserts. Truth be told, my mouth was bigger than my stomach. Instead of this being a three day testament to my fabulous kitchen skills it ended of a frustrating adventure that culminated in the refrigerator breaking. I don’t think the two things are connected, but I can appreciate the horrible timing of it all. Sure, some of the meals where greatly enjoyed, but given the time it took to do everything, I could honestly appreciate the appeal of TV Dinners and takeout. The one thing I did manage to hit out of the ballpark was the cinnamon roll pancake.
It’s a fact: you’re an adult. You know you’re an adult. Everyone knows you’re an adult, everyone accepts that you’re an adult. The only person who disputes this fact is your mother and that is because a room in your home is dirty. She’s just gotten in from an early morning, late night, whatever and what she was willing to ignore due to fatigue earlier, sleep has recharged her lecture batteries. At this point, you have two options. You could kick/usher her out as soon as she wakes up. I wouldn’t personally recommend this. First, when your mother is angry, everyone in the household knows it. (Why do that to your father?) Second, if your mother is anything like my mother, she’ll eventually get you back for that one. My mother’s wrath is like a poisonous spider hiding in your shoe, you literally step into it and it’s devastating. So that leaves you with one other choice: make her a breakfast that will shut her up.
This will take you forty minutes. Tops.