Peanut skated into the living room this morning with one foot in a box car from his 1970s hand-me-down train set, flipping socks into the air with a silicone spatula.
P: Mommy! I’m flipping pancakes and skating!
M: [actually looking; in fact marveling] Yeah you are.
P: I’m cooking on the train. It very hot! [realizes what that might mean…] Just the cooking part. This part [indicates the box car] not hot. Just right. A little warm, but I’m being careful. Don’t worry. I’m skating!
M: You sure are.
P: And flipping up to the ceiling and everything gets cold and then we eat it up!
M: You’re cooking on a train engine and flipping pancakes and letting them cool on the ceiling and skating in a box car and eating the pancakes when they cool down?
M: Wow. Keep up the good work.
Sure, cute and all. But now I’m jonesing for pancakes, have no idea where to find a cooking locomotive, and not at all sure what to pack first for our move this weekend, because clearly anything in a box is something he needs for the “rolling out dough for a quiche in a tugboat” project he’ll invent tomorrow…