Pancake Expecter

The Son of Never Stops Eating cracks me up.

Yesterday morning, I was getting ready to go out and have breakfast with a group of people who meet up every Saturday morning for breakfast at a local place.  The Son of Never Stops Eating often comes with me, unless he has more pressing engagements like basketball tournaments or swim meets.  We were going to a new place, so I wasn't sure if he wanted to come.

Son: Do they have pancakes?
Me:  Yes, they do.
Son: Do they have chocolate chip pancakes?
Me:  I'm not sure. I haven't seen the menu.
Son: Mom, you know that I'm a chocolate chip pancake expecter.

Expecter: One who expects.  I'm an expecter of coffee in the morning, clean-ish teenager rooms, and getting paid.  The Son of Never Stops Eating is an expecter of chocolate chip pancakes, Legos for every gift-giving occasion, donuts on Sunday mornings and The Simpsons on Sunday nights.

For the longest time, he had an ongoing idea regarding the building of a Mom Museum, in which I would be the featured honoree.  Every time we'd pass a construction site, he'd tell me that the shopping center or hotel was really going to be a Mom Museum, with statues for the greatest mothers in the world.  He seems to have realized that I don't fall for such flattery, so he's given it up.

He has not, however, given up the idea that I should be President of the United States.  I've pointed out the numerous logistical roadblocks here; no funding, lack of broad support across the nation, dislike of public speaking, a strong desire not to have my lack of fashion sense critiqued on talk shows, the fact that it would significantly interfere with my birding, and that I'd prefer to stay sane and politically unknown. This hasn't stopped him from campaigning for me, however.  A few weeks ago I was advised that our family pediatrician had agreed to vote for me.  Several weeks ago we were in the grocery store checkout line and he spied a magazine with a photo of the incumbent President on the cover.

Mom, he told me, I don't like our President. He's too orange.  You should be President. You would be the best President.  The Son of Never Stops Eating definitely has strong opinions about politics, and he's often not shy about sharing them.

Ummm hmmm, I said non-committally.  We've had several conversations about why it probably isn't the best idea to talk about national politics while out running errands.

"I'd vote for you", the guy behind us in line said.  "I don't even know you, but you'd probably be better than any real politician".  The cashier, who has a stellar future in diplomacy, simply asked how many single coffee pods I had in the big plastic bag (yes, I know they're bad for the Earth.  I get up for work at 5 AM.  Don't judge.)

For the first three years, he hardly talked at all.  At first everyone assured me that this was probably normal because he was a boy and his older sister never stopped talking and that once he got into pre-school he'd start talking.  That didn't happen, so after some evaluations we ended up in PPCD (public preschool for children with disabilities) to get speech therapy.  Then he started talking. Not only did he start talking, but he started putting his own distinctive spin on the English language.

When he'd get tired of me talking to people, he'd inform me that "talking is closed" and that it was time to go.  If I didn't take the hint, he'd remind me again that "Mom, talking is closed!".  Eventually, everyone who knows us knew that when Alex said "Talking is closed!" it was time to go.  He also gave me the name for this blog after insisting that I was the "Mom of No" too often, and I needed to start being the "Mom of Yes".  

So now he is a chocolate chip pancake expecter;  local breakfast restaurants, watch out.  If you don't have chocolate chip pancakes on your menu, you might want to consider adding them. If you do, the pancake expecter will be your best customer.