Pancakes and Tuna

It's "Kids Take Over the Kitchen Day." What could go wrong? Writer's Cramp Winning Entry

“It’s a thing, Mom. Mrs Young said we gotta do it.” Brandon hands me a grubby, damp sheet of blue paper he had been clutching in his hands.

“Yup. It is, Mom. Teacher said so.” His twin sister, Aileen, nods in support. These two agreeing on something always puts me on alert.

I read through the paper. “Kids Take Over the Kitchen Day.” Below the title is an explanation of what the assignment is. That our children cook the meals for one day. Or at least one meal, to give them an idea of what it’s like to be in charge of feeding themselves and the rest of the family. They’ll be sharing the results in class next week.

I shake my head after I get done reading. This is a Really Bad Idea. Anyone who knows the twins would agree.

“I see. Which meal do you two want to be in charge of?” By now, they have washed their hands and seated themselves on the stools at the counter, ready for after-school snacks. I dole out fruit leather and bottles of water.

“Breakfast,” says Brandon at the same time Aileen pipes in with “Lunch.” They look at each other and laugh. “Both!” they chime together.

“I see. Both. And what are you going to fix for breakfast?” Opening the notebook I keep in the kitchen, I settle onto a stool next to them, my pen at the ready. Jeremy coached them through making Mother’s Day breakfast last year, when they were seven. This Mother’s Day we went out.

Brandon peels off a strip of his apricot fruit leather and leans his head back to suck it into his mouth. “Monkey Brains!”

Aileen makes a gagging sound. “Ewww!” She punches her brother on the arm.

“Ow. Cut it out!” When it looks like Brandon is about to return the punch, I put my hand between them.

“Settle down. No monkey brains. What’s another choice?” I’m hoping for a reasonable answer this time.

Brandon chews noisily. “Pancakes.” His choice comes as no surprise. Pancakes are his all-time favorite breakfast.

“And I’m gonna make tuna sandwiches. With potato chips on the side.”

I write everything down. One page for breakfast. Another for lunch.

“Okay. Good plan. Now, first we need to check the cupboards and refrigerator to make sure we have everything. Brandon, you go first.”

He stands, eyeing me warily.

Aileen slides onto the stool her brother vacated, so she can watch me write.

I watch Brandon open the refrigerator. “What’s first?”

“Um.” He pulls a jug out, holding it up. “Lotsa syrup!” I fight back a smile. The boy would happily bathe in syrup if we let him.

“What about the pancakes? What do you need for those?”

He shrugs. “I dunno.” Pancakes appear magically on his plate. That’s all he knows.

I list the ingredients on the page, speaking each one out loud. “Flour. Buttermilk. Eggs.”

Aileen sighs dramatically. “Brandon. You picked something too hard!”

“Fine.” Scowling, he stomps back to lean against his sister’s stool. “You think you’re so smart, you tell Mom what you’re gonna need.”

Aileen counts on her fingers. “Tuna.” Bread. Chips.”

I chuckle. “Good start. You’re serving tuna from the can? Nothing in it?” She looks at me questioningly. “You know. Mayonnaise. Hard-boiled eggs. And you like pickle relish in it, right?”

She sighs again, just as dramatically. “Mom!”

I hide a smile. “Mom, what? I mean if you want tuna straight from the can, we can do that, too.”

Aileen pulls a face, her lower lip pouting out. “You’re making this no fun. We’re supposed to have fun.”

I pick up the paper, pretending to read it again. “Nope. Don’t see anything in here where it says you have to have fun.”

This gains me matching eye rolls from them both.

Just then, my husband walks into the kitchen, “home from work” as he likes to say. His office is on the third floor of our house, a hasty attic conversion we did during the pandemic.

“What’s shakin’, kids?” He drops a kiss on the top of my head.

The kids race to him, both vying to hug their dad around the waist, nearly knocking their heads together. I grip the counter, hoping I don’t get knocked off my stool in the process.

“Mom’s no fun!” As if they had practiced, their words come out in chorus.

Jeremy looks at me. Then the kids. “She is fun. I can vouch for that.” I give him a winning smile. That will earn him several kisses later on tonight.

He listens carefully when they speak over each other, explaining what they want to do. I try to meet his eyes to give him the “No Go. Bad Idea. Red Flag” look he’s seen there plenty of times.

That night, with the plans finally in place, we head to bed after reading one last story to the kids. I have plenty of misgivings, but eventually fall asleep to the murmur of Jeremy’s voice reassuring me everything will be fine…

...The next day, sometime in the early afternoon

“I’ve got some tuna over here,” I mutter from where I kneel, scrubbing at a spot under the kitchen table.

“Honey?” I look up. Jeremy’s pointing to the ceiling. “How did pancake batter get up there?”

I laugh until tears stream from my eyes. “I told you to stick with Eggos.”



902 words
Prompt: September 13 is Kids Take Over The Kitchen Day. Write a story or poem showing why this is a Bad Idea.