blueberry pancakes
This morning Greg came down and ask me what I was doing.
I said, “I’m making blueberry griddle cakes.”
He laughed and said, “Who are you? I have never seen you turn that stove on before noon.”
“Shut up or you won’t get any of these griddle cakes.”
This started the night before. Monica had said she was not going to write a fiction story this time in her school journal and that instead she wanted to describe a cold December morning.
“Great,” I said. “Remember your adjectives. Teachers love to see lots of adjectives.”
And wow did she pack on the adjectives. She had done a great job but I started to question the non-fiction aspect of it. In it, she had herself up before the rest of us, eating a plate full of blue berry pancakes with hot maple syrup and sipping on a hot chocolate. God love her – she never had that for breakfast in her life. But to her it must have sounded so much better than, “I am gazing at the morning sun through the frost etched windows while chewing on my fruit-to-go bar and my rock hard eggo waffle.”
Anyway, so I got up early this morning and made blueberry griddlecakes trying to put a little non-fiction back in her journal writing.
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