“I did promise. That’s true. Okay, do we want chocolate chips or blueberries?”
After sorting out people’s preferences and waving bye to Mom as she vanishes off to her morning yoga, I focus on whipping up the pancake batter. Nick and Sam climb into their respective seats at the table and engage in an action figure battle around the salt and pepper shakers. It’s peaceful in its own way. Then the floorboards creak.
“Good morning.”
Elijah stands in the doorway, fully dressed with not a hair out of place, and smiles.
“You stayed!” Nick yells, sliding off his seat. “Yay!”
“It’s the loser.” Sam giggles. “Ice loser.”
“Sam!” I scoff softly.
“No, he’s right.” Elijah chuckles, and Nick gives him a quick hug and then returns to the table. “I am an ice loser.”
“I guess we both are,” I reply. Our eyes meet and a small, knowing smile creeps across his face. Like a smile that’s momentarily only for me.
“What are you making?”
“Pancakes.”
“Chocolate chip,” Sam cheers. “The best kind ever!”
“No, blueberry is the best!” Nick argues right back.
“A double whammy.” Elijah moves next to me and peers over my shoulder. “Can I?”
“You want to make pancakes?”
“I may not be great in the kitchen, but I am a dab hand at the sweetest, fluffiest pancakes known to man.”
“Oh, really?” Lifting one brow, I give him a disbelieving glance. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Then let me prove it.”
“Let him, Mommy,” Nick calls. “Come play!”
“Yes, come play!” Sam demands.
I slowly turn to Elijah and gently deposit the bowl into his waiting arms. “Alright, Mr. Pancake Whizz. Show us what you can do.”
“Gladly.” Elijah smiles warmly and immediately gets to work.
The soft, domestic bliss of the moment doesn’t escape me as I sit at the table and become cannon fodder for Nick and Sam’s game. Sitting here with my son while Elijah makes breakfast, it’s reminiscent of what could have been had things gone differently back then. Nick’s warmed to Elijah faster than I expected, but given that it’s been during two days of activities, it could be the excitement of having his friend here.
But if I squint, I like what I see. Elijah mixes the ingredients and turns the kitchen into a warm haven that smells of mouthwatering batter and the subtle sweetness of melted chocolate chips. Within ten minutes, both types of pancakes are served to the boys and Elijah hovers nearby, eagerly awaiting their approval.
“Mmm!” Sam hums, stuffing his face with several bites while trying to talk. “S’good!”
“Best I ever had!” Nick declares. “You should make yours like this, Mommy!”
The subtle insult to my pancake-making abilities is softened by how delighted Nick looks, although I still send Elijah a narrow-eyed glance. “It’s not a fair fight.”
“Oh, really?” Elijah sucks a streak of melted chocolate off his thumb, distracting me with how his lips caress the digit. “How so?”
“They don’t have mine to compare.”
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Nick says in a hushed whisper that’s really not all that quiet. “I’ll still eat yours.”
