She made pancakes this morning.
It’s her second attempt to do it from scratch. As the batter came to become, she served periodically to the breakfast plate. Sweating as she goes, enjoying the process.
She serves the second batch to the table.
“Why so many?” he asked condescendingly.
Some morning jolt she had springing harmful innocent curses muttered underneath her breath.
“Just go on and finish up your granola cereal,” she said within her. “Just because you don’t like it, that doesn’t mean others don’t like it either.” Plus the recipe said to use that much of batter and she knew it would finish anyhow.
He should know by now that she doesn’t enjoy cereal.
She then finds Elliot looking for a container. He fell quiet when their son comes to the table with a container to pack himself two pancakes, maple syrup and a fork for school. She smiles and smirks inwardly with satisfaction that she wins. Even more so knowing that her effort didn’t go to waste.