Every Sunday morning for as long as I can remember my Dad has made pancakes for everyone. It is the only thing he knows how to cook (besides bacon) and he takes great pride in it. I’ve spent evenings with him when my stepmother has been out of town and he would be like…” so i can make us some pancakes for dinner”. It’s really sorta sweet.
At some point along the way I started doing the same thing for my own family, a nice sit-down pancake breakfast. Sunday lunch and dinner are usually conducted as an in-house pot luck, eating whatever we end up bringing to the table. I look forward to our Sunday breakfasts. It’s the only meal 0f the week that I dont have to plan for. I know exactly what we are having and I enjoy making it. It is also the only day of the week that we can do breakfast together. The extent of our conversation depends on how long each of us has been up and how much coffee has been consumed beforehand. Even when we eat our pancakes in silence it’s just nice to be starting our day together, at the table.