Once upon a time, a Mother, a Father, a Son, and a Daughter lived in an old house on a suburban hill surrounded by lots and lots of other houses.

One day, The Son was scouring the pantry to find something to eat, and he found Magic Pancake Mix.

“Make Pancakes!! Make Pancakes, Mommy!”

“Are you sure you want Pancakes?” said the Mother.

“NEEEEEEED pancakes!!!” said the Son.

So the Mother agreed to make Magic Pancakes for lunch and said, “Who will help me make these pancakes?”

“Me! Me!” said the Son.

“Me! Me!” said the Daughter.

“Groan,” said the Mother.

She knew that the recipe would need milk and eggs and oil, so she located all of the ingredients.

“Who will help me measure this milk?” said the Mother.

“ME!! MEEEE!!” said the Son.

“No! MEEEE!” said the Daughter.

They both held the measuring cup and splashed milk all over the Mother.

Then the Mother realized with great foreboding that it was time to crack the egg.

“Who will help me crack this egg?”

“ME!! CRACK THE EGG!!” said the Son.

“Not me.  I don’t like getting messy.” said the Daughter.

The Son cracked and smashed and shattered the egg, proudly and loudly.

The Mother shook the yolk off of her hands and out of her hair, then took the oil from the counter.  “Who will help me measure this oil?” said the Mother.

“ME!! ME!!” said the Son.

“ME! It’s my turn!!” said the Daughter.

The Daughter held the measuring spoon, as the Son knocked it out of her hand in a jealous rage.

Then it was time to mix the batter.

“Who will help me whisk this batter?” said the Mother.

“ME!!!” said the Son.

“NO!! ME!!” said the Daughter.


And so they took turns, each getting a little impatient with the length of the other’s whisking.


The Mother, being somewhat wise, decided not to ask for help with the hot pan.

She melted the butter and poured the magical pancake batter and flipped the pancakes, all while The Son and The Daughter begged to help.

“Who will help me get the paper plates?” asked the Mother.

“ME!!” said the Daughter.

“PATES!!!” said the Son.

They got the plates and knocked the rest of the plate stack into the pantry floor.

The Mother stacked the plates high with deliciously smelling warm and buttery magic pancakes, and then cut them into squares.

“Who wants syrup with their pancakes?”

“ME!! ME!!” said the Daughter.

“suuuuuuWUP!!!” said the Son.

The Mother gave them each a puddle of syrup for dipping.  The Mother set their plates in front of them, and then asked,

“Who will help me eat these pancakes?”

“Not me!! I’m not hungry.  AT ALL.” said the Daughter.

“NO PANCAKES!! ALL DONE!!” said the Son.

After encouraging and insisting and cajoling and bribing them unsuccessfully to eat the magical pancakes, the Mother gave up and calmly inserted their pancakes into a very muggle Ziploc bag and put them in the fridge.

That night, the Father came home from work, peered eagerly into the refrigerator, and said, “Oooooh! Pancakes!!  Can I have some?”

“Did you help me measure the milk?” said the Mother.

“No.” said the Father.

“Did you help me crack the egg?” said the Mother.

“No.” said the Father.

“Did you help me measure the oil?” said the Mother.

“No.” said the Father.

“Did you help me whisk the batter?” said the Mother.

“No.” said the Father.

“Did you help me get the plates?” said the Mother.

“No.” said the Father, by this time crestfallen at his unworthiness to enjoy the magical bounty.

The Mother looked at him with fairy godmother eyes.

“Thank you. I need no more help. In fact, I need no additional helpers. You may eat these magical pancakes, as long as you promise to not make any more helpers.”

The father looked at her with narrowed eyes, and looked back at the tasty cakes with slightly burnt buttery edges that melt in your mouth…

And the mother, the father, and the two children lived happily ever after.


14 thoughts on “When Life is a Fairytale.

  1. HA, Too funny Rachel! My son always likes to help and I have to try and remain calm during that time. It’s so much easier and faster if I do it myself, not to mention less messy. One and done for me!

  2. What a great post on the happenings in your household. Now that you have made this covenent with the Father you know what will happen.

  3. Loved this! I feel this way cooking with only one “helper”. I can only imagine the complexity with two (or, gasp!, more)!

  4. Ha! Sounds like quite an event at your house… be glad you don’t have to cook by neighbor notification (as in, you’re deaf, so when your smoke alarm goes off, it bugs the neighbor and she comes to let you know ;)

    Your little helpers are so stinkin’ cute!

  5. Ha ha, that’s so funny! I enjoy reading about what’s happening with your family. I have 2 boys but this situation could have been me on a Sunday morning. :)

  6. I loved reading this I think because to some small degree as a Mom I can relate. I just have one “helper” and oh the stress of cooking with just one, let alone two.

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