Little Brother and TheDad made pancakes this morning. They do this at least once every weekend. It’s their special tradition.
I ate breakfast already, so they’re enjoying their pancakes by themselves.
“I have the cutting knife,” Little Brother called out.
“Isn’t every knife a cutting knife?” I wondered.
“No, Mom,” Little Brother patiently explained. “In pancakes, you have a cutting knife and a butter knife. That’s the rules.”
I had no idea that breakfast silverware could be so complicated.
