On Saturday mornings, we have an established routine. Mom sleeps in (as best she can in a townhouse with paper thin walls and, well, two wild animals running around 10 feet below her) and the boys and I make breakfast.
Specifically, we make pancakes.
Real pancakes. Not those weak-sauce “just add water” pancakes. I’m talking about the real deal here. We make ’em from scratch, double sift the dry ingredients, refrigerate the batter – we know all the good tricks. Ethan and I take our pancake-making (well, him more so the pancake-eating) very seriously, so much so that I’m constantly experimenting with my pancake recipe, searching for the perfect pancake. Lately I’ve been experimenting with how I combine the ingredients. I even have seasonal variants. Last week, I made my fall pancakes, and I’ve been brainstorming a Christmas recipe lately as well. (Stop judging me.)
But I digress.
It’s not really about the pancakes (though Ethan might argue that it is, indeed, all about the pancakes, especially when there are sprinkles or chocolate chips involved), it’s more about just being intentional with our Saturday mornings. We started with a little common ground (I mean, if you can’t find common ground in pancakes, I’m not sure where else you might find it), and have built something really fun and meaningful out of it. We work together, we talk about the week, we (he) spill(s) stuff and make(s) a mess, and we (I) clean it up while we (he) laugh(s at me). It’s turned into one of the times I look forward to most in the week, and I like to think the boys have a pretty good time, too. (I know for a fact that it’s mom’s favorite time of the week, because she gets to sleep in.)
What’s even more fun for us, though, is when we get to share pancake Saturdays with others. On weekends where we have guests (which we’ve had quite a few of lately), Ethan is more focused on his pancake-making than ever. He can’t wait to get up and get started making pancakes for our guests. He seems to really find genuine joy in sharing this tradition of ours, and in that, I can’t help but feel like maybe the focus his mom and I both put on intentionality and hospitality in our home is paying dividends in our boys, and those concepts are, just maybe, finally sinking in a little bit.
One can only hope.
Recently, my wife had to eat a bit of crow when we had some twitter friends over to stay at our house and it was awesome (and she thought that it was going to be weird). She said something that stuck with me (maybe because I’m usually the one feasting on crow like it’s going out of style in our relationship, so this was especially memorable): it really doesn’t matter what it is we are doing, when we do it intentionally, God can use it.
Even Saturday morning pancakes.