Miracle Pancake
On the increasingly rare occasions that I drive, my son always gets on my case. “Daddy, why are you driving so slow?” he asks.
“Because I’m not in a hurry,” I answer.
This attitude carries over to the household where, just like on a real farm in the actual country, I find the time to make my boy pancakes from scratch every morning.
One morning not so long ago I produced what the National Inquirer has dubbed “the Miracle Pancake.” Some see in it the face of Jesus, others a simple heart. What do you see?