In almost every family, there are weekly traditions (or daily, depending on the parents’ level of OCD). Growing up in my house, the tradition was “who is daddy’s mistress this week?”

Just kidding.

Growing up, the tradition in my house was breakfast at Mickey’s Restaurant (not to be confused with McDonald’s – it was more of an upscale, mom-and-pop Denny’s) after my hockey practice or game. It was the highlight of my week (aside from actually playing hockey, of course) because we sat as a family for breakfast and talked about our week. We joked around, and of course, ate hash browns! (The truth is, I’m not sure how long this lasted, or when it ended, or even if it was a tradition, but it’s the closest thing to it that I can remember)

Since our little Jacob entered our lives, routine has been of paramount importance (if you have kids or OCD, then you understand completely). I’m not sure when exactly it started, but every Sunday in our home is “Pancake Day”. We take turns waking up with him, so each of us gets a chance to sleep in on the weekend a little bit instead of always getting up at the crack of dawn (dude, it’s Sunday – can’t you give us a little break?)

Once we’re all awake, I like to get cracking (no pun intended) on breakfast. It includes eggs and Smoked Apple Sage Field Roast Sausages, and Organic Kamut pancakes – I like Arrowhead Mills pancake mix – with true Canadian Maple Syrup for Cherise and myself (say what you want about Canada, but we know our maple syrup!). Jacob eats his pancakes plain and loves them (I substitute molasses for the honey in the recipe and add cinnamon and a teaspoon of almond extract)

The look on Jacob’s face when he sees me mixing the pancake batter is absolutely priceless! His face lights up and all he wants to do is watch me cook (if he’s standing in the kitchen and Cherise isn’t holding him, he’ll hang on to my butt like a monkey and make noise until I pick him up) As soon as the first pancakes are ready, Jacob is already vocalizing his desire to devour them despite the fact that they’d burn his mouth if we let him (our trick – cut one up right away and it cools down pretty quickly). We don’t get to sit around at breakfast yet (or ever, really), but I know that if we keep up with the tradition, it can turn into something special. Maybe he’ll make the effort to come home from college every Sunday for pancake day. Or maybe he’ll even continue it in his own family some day.

College? Family? Slow down! (I tell myself)

For now, I’ll just enjoy this little howler monkey as he hangs on to my butt while I cook…