Pancakes For Dinner

Watching the Patriots game on an iPhone over pancakes last Sunday in NYC – yes, late afternoon pancakes are delicious – I asked our 18-year-old Sophie what an extra point is worth. “Wait, that’s the kick right?” Yes, I said, it’s the kick. “Oh well, that’s easy. It’s 3, obviously.”  Her answer made me smile and reminded me when she was just 6 and she made a list over pancakes of all the things she would need if we ever had to go to a hideout, and high on her list were 3 pairs of tights, or as she wrote it, “3 ti_s” (yes, that word George Carlin told us we couldn't say on television!). Webster could not have seen that one coming, right?  But I’m not so sure what was funnier: the spelling or the 3?  When I told her that she was close but had spelled “tights” incorrectly, she chuckled and snorted the way kids do. “Oh yeah,” hee hee she giggled, “there’s no ‘s'”  

It’s a strange set of emotions when the kids leave the nest and go out on their own. You begin to feel yourself age, and not necessarily physically. Your brain just instantly becomes older. You find yourself staring out windows and getting emotional just looking at that picture frame made of popsicle sticks she gave you for Christmas. You start to randomly choke up thinking about those moments when you could just be a kid with your kids. You rely on facetime. And then you get on a train for 3 hours to come see the kid strum a guitar and sing the Emily King song “Teach You” like she does here in front of 500 some people on the upper east side, just like the two of you are back home in the living room singing Crosby’s “Teach Your Children.” But I suppose this is the point too - that you grow up, they grow up, and while you may not be able stop them from leaving and stop yourself from aging, you can turn back time once in awhile, and have a good laugh over pancakes.