I’m sitting in one of the many waiting rooms in which modern humans waste a considerable amount of their lives.
A worn-out National Geographic I found there keeps me company. I wonder what kind of germs reside between its pages, but I soon push the thought aside, as other things occupy my mind: How much longer will I be here? How do they keep the floor so shiny? Will the whole-wheat banana pancakes I made for breakfast before I left be OK to eat when I get back home?
I hate waiting rooms, with their uncomfortable chairs that remind me of every second spent there.
Tick, tock. 5340 seconds.
A moment later a small commotion: A young mom arrives with two toddlers in tow. And as you would expect of toddlers, they make sure everybody notices their entrance. Toddlers are a bit like celebrities, except kids are cuter and much less obnoxious.
I smile at them and return to an article on traveling in Milan. I want to go back to Milan, I didn’t see enough of that city. We never get to see enough when we travel.
Soon it’s obvious that the children are restless. Their voices progressively louder: “freco, freco!” I speak a bit of toddler, so I understand what they want: They want soda. Internally, I cringe, but I dare not show it, for I strictly adhere to the unwritten-but-seldom-respected law that says you should never opine about how other people raise their kids. But I can share it with you – I disapprove of toddlers being given soda.
She walks to the coffee table and serves two cups of black coffee. I can sympathise. Two toddlers must be exhausting, I found mine exhausting. Perhaps some caffeine will get her through the ordeal of a long wait with two bored toddlers.
Except that she gives one cup to each child.
Saying that I was a little shocked is an understatement. And so we get to the point of this story: while I’d never voice my unsolicited opinions on how other people raise their children, it’s entirely OK to disagree with those choices. Feeding children inadequate, or actively harmful foods is one of my pet peeves.
I don’t doubt that she loves her children, not for a second. I’m going to assume it’s lack of information that in some cases leads parents to making bad decisions when it comes to feeding their kids. It’s not the first time we address this subject.
Nobody is going to tell me what I can eat – except my doctor, insistently. I’m an adult and will kill myself as I see fit. My child, however, is my responsibility. I have to provide her with the best food I can. Not amazingly, this doesn’t mean expensive or complicated. In fact, it means the opposite. Good food is simple food, food as close to the source as possible.
Kids are not born craving soda and coffee early in the morning. We instill bad eating habits in our children at our own peril, and unfortunately, theirs too.
And back to the pancakes: I’m not a sweet breakfast person. It’s savory for me any day, but these fluffy pancakes are one of my favorite weekend breakfasts. They are not sickly sweet, and are very quick and easy to make. Most importantly, my daughter loves them too.
- 2 very ripe bananas
- 2 eggs
- 1/2 cup of whole-wheat flour
- 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon of salt
- 1/4 cup of almond milk
- Oil spray
- 1 cup of fresh fruit, cubed (I used pineapple)
- Honey (optional, see notes)
- Mix bananas, eggs, flour, salt, milk and baking soda. Blend to a smooth mix.
- Coat a non-stick pan with oil.
- Add four tablespoons of pancake mix and cook over medium heat until it's brown on one side. Flip and cook similarly on the other side.
- Repeat with the rest of the mixture.
- Serve with the fresh fruit and drizzle with a small amount of honey if you wish.
I used organic honey from the Puntacana Foundation farm, but frankly, the pancakes were sweet enough for me without it. It's a matter of taste.