I began to gather all of my ingredients and lay them out on the counter top. It was then that I realized I didn't have any eggs. Crap, I thought. I quickly scoured the fridge for a substitute, after all, there wasn't much else in the house to eat for breakfast and with the rain falling steadily outside, there was no way I was piling the kids in the car for a "quick" trip to the market.
We all know "quick" is not in a mom's vocabulary, especially before coffee, at 8am in the morning and with a toddler and six month old.
So back to the scouring. I couldn't find any applesauce and I had already used all the mushy bananas in the house to make banana bread the weekend before. I was quickly running out of options but determined to make pancakes.
And then I stumbled across some yogurt. I shrugged my shoulders, pulled out the small container of Chobani and set to making the batter.
A little of this, a little of that.. a cup of yogurt. I mean, in my head it seemed like a great idea.
The batter was a little thick so I added a touch more milk. It smelled like pancakes and looked like what pancake batter typically looks like so I went with it.
As I heated the frying pan, I could almost taste the warm buttery with-just-a-hint-of-vanilla deliciousness I would soon enjoy with my toddler. Drippy with syrup it would be the perfect start to this dreary day.
I carefully poured the first pancake into the pan. I waited for the telltale bubbles. And waited. And waited. As I was waiting, the "pancake" started smoking.
There were no bubbles and there would be no pancakes that morning. While I was waiting and waiting for the bubbles to appear, the "pancake" was adhering itself to the frying pan in as a blackened, crispy pancake-chip mess.
Let the record show that yogurt is not a suitable substitute for eggs.
Great, now what was I supposed to feed the toddler? And in one of my finest parenting moments yet, I reheated last night's dinner and rinsed a handful of blueberries to lessen the blow.
Pizza. I served my toddler pizza for breakfast and while reheating it, I really did think to myself "pizza is always better served cold for breakfast
usually after a hangover."
At least there were blueberries...