All I Want

People run after so many things in life: love, career, fitness. Me, all I want is pancakes: light, buttery, fluffy, and covered in syrup. Most scoff at me when I tell them that my goal in life is to have pancakes for breakfast at least four days a week, but you try to make the effort to do that yourself and see who's scoffing then. For the past year, I have never once gone more than two days without eating pancakes.

Pancakes remind me of home, and of my mommy. She makes the best buttermilk pancakes. She would put real blueberries in them, too. I usually settle for blueberry syrup, which isn't nearly as good, but still gets the job done. Most days I do make the pancakes myself, just like my mommy taught me, but going to a breakfast place like Village Inn or Denny's is acceptable, as long as you go for breakfast time.

When I eat pancakes, I feel years younger. I don't care about boys or shopping. I just care about being happy, and pancakes make me happy. Other people tell me it's stupid. They tease me a lot. But I don't really care because I have my pancakes. Yum!

Maybe someday, I'll "grow up." Maybe I'll have a great job where I make a real difference in society and make lots of money. Maybe I'll find a nice boy and fall in love and raise a family of my own. One thing I know for sure: if I ever have a daughter, I will teach her how to make pancakes, and all my children will always have their stomachs full of light, fluffy, buttery goodness, covered in maple syrup. Sure, I'll teach them to read and write and do arithmetic, too, but above all, I want them to be as happy as I am right now, and for that, there's really only one thing they'll need: pancakes.