The babysitter

The Great Pancake Catastrophe

It was supposed to be a simple Sunday morning breakfast.

Tim Bradford, LAPD sergeant and generally competent human being, stood in his kitchen wearing Lucy's bright pink apron with little cupcakes on it, staring at what could only be described as a pancake batter crime scene.

"Daddy," Emma said from her perch at the kitchen island, "why is there batter on the ceiling?"

"Physics," Tim replied grimly, scraping pancake mixture off the side of the mixing bowl. "Evil, evil physics."

The morning had started innocently enough. Tim had decided to make his famous family pancakes—except he'd never actually made pancakes before. How hard could it be? You mix stuff, you pour it, you flip it. Simple.

He'd been wrong. So very, very wrong.

Lucy walked into the kitchen holding nine-month-old Evan, took one look around, and stopped dead in her tracks. "Tim," she said slowly, "why does it look like a pancake exploded in here?"

"I may have used the electric mixer," Tim admitted, gesturing vaguely at the hand mixer that was still dripping batter onto the counter. "On high speed. For... efficiency."

"DADDY MADE A PANCAKE VOLCANO!" Emma announced gleefully, pointing at the splatter pattern on the ceiling that did, indeed, resemble a volcanic explosion.

Kojo, their German Shepherd, was having the time of his life. He'd positioned himself strategically in the middle of the kitchen and was slowly rotating in place, licking up every drop of batter that had fallen within reach. His tail wagged furiously, and he had a look of pure canine joy on his face that suggested this was the best day of his entire life.

"At least someone's happy," Lucy muttered, surveying the damage. Batter coated the backsplash, the cabinets, the window, and somehow—somehow—the inside of the microwave. "Tim, how did you get pancake batter inside the microwave?"

"I don't know!" Tim threw his hands up in defeat, accidentally flinging more batter off the spoon he was holding. It landed with a splat on Emma's forehead.

Emma crossed her eyes trying to look at the batter on her head. "Now I'm a pancake!"

Evan, who had been watching the proceedings with wide-eyed fascination, suddenly let out an enormous giggle and clapped his hands. This caused him to accidentally smack Lucy in the face, leaving a tiny handprint of drool on her cheek.

"Okay," Lucy said, trying to maintain some semblance of adult authority while her husband looked like he'd been in a food fight and her baby was laughing maniacally. "Let's just—"

She was interrupted by a loud CRASH from behind her. They all turned to see Kojo, in his enthusiasm to reach a particularly tempting splatter of batter, had managed to knock over the bag of flour Tim had left on the counter.

White flour exploded across the kitchen like a small nuclear bomb, coating everything and everyone in a fine, powdery layer.

For a moment, complete silence reigned in the Bradford kitchen.

Emma, now covered in pancake batter AND flour, looked like a tiny ghost. "I think I'm bread now," she whispered in awe.

Kojo sneezed, sending up a small puff of flour, then immediately went back to licking the floor with even more determination.

Evan took one look at his flour-covered family and burst into the most delighted laughter any of them had ever heard. He clapped his hands again, sending up little flour clouds with each movement, which only made him laugh harder.

Tim and Lucy stared at each other across the devastated kitchen. Tim's hair was white with flour, his pink apron was splattered with batter, and he had a handprint on his cheek where he'd tried to wipe his face with his batter-covered hand. Lucy looked like she'd been caught in a bakery tornado, and she had flour in her eyebrows.

"So," Lucy said finally, "takeout?"

"Definitely takeout," Tim agreed.

"Can we get pancakes?" Emma asked hopefully, shaking flour out of her hair.

"Emma," Lucy said patiently, "we are literally covered in pancake ingredients right now."

"But these are broken pancakes," Emma pointed out with seven-year-old logic. "I want pancakes that aren't exploded."

Kojo chose that moment to attempt to lick the flour off Emma's leg, which sent her into a fit of giggles. "Kojo thinks I'm delicious!"

"Kojo thinks everything is delicious," Tim pointed out. "Yesterday I caught him trying to eat a sock."

"Maybe we should just order pizza," Lucy suggested. "It's hard to explode pizza."

"Don't challenge me," Tim warned darkly.

As if summoned by the mention of food, Evan started making his hungry noises—except now they were accompanied by little flour puffs every time he breathed.

"Okay, new plan," Lucy announced. "Emma, you and Kojo go get cleaned up. Tim, you figure out how to get pancake batter off the ceiling. I'm going to feed Evan and pretend this never happened."

"What about breakfast?" Emma asked.

"Cereal," Lucy, Tim, and even Kojo seemed to say in unison.

"Boring," Emma sighed, but she skipped off toward the bathroom, leaving little flour footprints behind her.

As Lucy carried Evan out of the kitchen, she heard Tim muttering behind her: "I'm a trained police officer. I've diffused dangerous situations. I've handled armed suspects. How did pancakes defeat me?"

From the bathroom, Emma's voice rang out: "DADDY! There's batter in my ear!"

"That's... probably my fault too," Tim called back.

Lucy paused in the doorway and looked back at her husband, who was now staring up at the ceiling with the resignation of a man facing his greatest nemesis. Kojo had found a particularly large splatter of batter and was doing his best impression of a canine vacuum cleaner.

"Hey Tim?" Lucy called.

"Yeah?"

"Next Sunday, I'm making breakfast."

"Deal," Tim said immediately. "Though in my defense, the box didn't mention anything about explosion risks."

"It's pancake mix, not dynamite."

"Apparently, in my hands, there's no difference."

Emma's voice echoed from upstairs: "MOMMY! Kojo followed me and now there are flour paw prints all over the bathroom!"

Lucy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm going to need more coffee."

"I can make coffee!" Tim offered hopefully.

"Absolutely not," Lucy said firmly. "You're banned from all kitchen appliances until further notice."

And that's how the Bradford family ended up eating cereal for breakfast while sitting on the couch, all of them still finding flour in their hair hours later, and Kojo looking like the happiest dog in the world as he continued his mission to lick every surface in the house clean.

The pancake batter stayed on the ceiling for three weeks, until Tim finally admitted defeat and called a professional cleaning service.

Emma still claims it looked like a unicorn.