This morning I was attempting to make pancakes. And feed the dog, and feed the cat, and pour juice, and hold a conversation with my seven-year-old son. Things just don't go so well when I attempt to multi-task so early in the morning.
Anyway, I ended up burning the pancakes.
"Well, kid," I said. "I burnt the pancakes. Sorry."
"That's all right mom. I'll eat them, because if I was stranded in the wilderness, and burnt pancakes were all I had to eat, I'd eat them."
Well, that makes me feel so much better.