They are young. What I say means next to nothing. Of course it doesn’t. How I say what I say means everything. Of course it does.

They are in the moment, always. No past, no future – only now. Full of desire, bursting with want, not yet having developed a filter, they say exactly what they want to say. I admire them. I wish I were as tapped in.

I carry out two plates of pancakes. These morning cakes are syrup sponges. I balance two plates in one hand, imitating the servers I’ve seen at restaurants, and two cups of orange juice in the other. I want them to have orange juice and also, by carrying them all at once, I am mitigating the where’s the orange juice? or I want juice too! I am learning to lessen my own suffering. What’s next is having them come get their own food. One thing at a time though — I made a good breakfast and that’s the success of the moment.

They see the plates. Ugggghhhh I don’t want pancakes! You said we could have croissants! You broke a promise!

They are right. I did say they could have croissants, but I forgot to set out the frozen croissants the night before as they need to thaw and rise. I said I was sorry, that I had forgotten to set them out. I say that it’s ok not to want pancakes, and it’s also unkind to say I don’t want that in that particular tone (you know that shitty tone) whenever someone brings you something they’ve made for you.

It’s ok not to want it. It’s not ok to roll eyes and audibly bemoan an act of service. I don’t say it that way. I say it in kid words, with a calm tone, and no accusation.

Sometimes I say it with accusation and frustration. That’s always about me and not about or for them. This time I say it for them, on their behalf, for their future that they don’t need to think about.

I walk away towards the kitchen, turn around at the door, and see them each taking bites of pancakes.

Sometimes it goes well.