German Pancake Sundays

"Tomorrow is German pancake day!" my five-year-old daughter yells this morning. It has become a marker of time, "German pancake day." Every Sunday, just like a religious ritual, we make German pancakes. It is a recipe from family, and something that my family ate occasionally, but it was in with the mix of Swedish, and buttermilk pancakes, a sort of rotation of sorts. Our family is dedicated to German pancakes on Sundays, and if this is at all altered, my daughter will express pure disappointment and the down right injustice of skipping, or god for bid, replacing them with something much less desirable.
Ritual in our family is one of our tenants for allowing life to flow. We know what to expect; we look forward to the comfort. While Saturday's breakfasts are a mystery, the following morning we are brought together with a huge German pancake, that fluffs up in the oven and warms our hearts. Here's to ritual, powdered sugar, and dedicated time together on Sunday mornings.

Out of the Crib

Well, the moment happened, and I never thought it would, but my almost three year old son climbed out of his crib and greeted us at 5:20 a.m. at the side of our bed. He very proudly said, "I climbed out. I will do it again." These are the moments when I am reminded that our children have a life of their own, and their schedule and our's are separate. "If they can only be on our timeframe it would be so much easier," I think to myself. I hope that he continues to push me, to make me straighten up and see him for who he is at that moment. He could wait a couple more hours and ring in his news with the sun up, right? Now on the search for a real bed.