I am a lover of the pancake arts. They inspire me to many things. We have no IHOPs in the Dayton area, and this is a travesty of pancake justice. Thankfully, we have many memories of IHOPs in Colorado. One of the earliest memories my seven-year-old son has is of him and me going to IHOP for specialty pancakes.
"That was in Colorado, right?" he asked me. "I remember we used to go there a lot, didn't we?"
Jordan was aged three through five during this time, so it's cool that the memory stuck with him. His brain is developing so fast now, many of those toddler memories are being wiped out.
We also stopped by Sonic once or twice a week in those days. For those who don't know, that's a fast-food joint where you pull up to signs outside to order your meal, and it's brought to your car, often by roller-skating waiters or waittresses. Jordan would unbuckle from the seat, take off his shoes, and go crawling through the Vibe station wagon we had at the time. It had a sun roof, too, so of course he'd be sticking his head through that, weather permitting.
The last time I asked him about that, he didn't really remember it. Stupid me, I didn't take any pictures of it. Stupid! Always take pictures, people. It's the 21st century.
Being without a member of the IHOP franchise nearby, I've had to perfect my own pancake art, and can report success. Whenever my son stays with me, we have pancakes the next morning.
One of the best memories I have of my own dad is the making of pancakes on Sunday mornings. Not every Sunday, but there was a period of time when it was semi-regular. I'm very glad to pass down that positive memory to my son.