Pancakes for Presidents' Day
Christine Booth rolled over in bed, and slowly awakened to the realization that she was uncomfortably cocooned in her covers, and too warm to doze off again. As she wriggled to free herself, she felt someone watching her, and opened one eye. Her younger brother Hank was standing beside the bed, a quizzical look on his face.
"Hank! What are you doing there? That's stalker-creepy, watching somebody sleep! Scram!"
"Chrissy, I'm not stalking you. I was trying to figure out the best way to wake you up, so you wouldn't grouch at me!"
"Go back to bed, or go watch TV, and let me sleep! It's a holiday; I don't have to get up yet!"
"Chris, it's Feb. 22ndth! Don't you remember? We agreed to treat Dad today! I thought we could make him pancakes for breakfast, with fruit like the flag. But if you don't wanna help, I'll just do it myself."
With that, the twelve-year old did an about face that would have done a soldier proud, and left his sister's room. Christine pulled a face, rolled her eyes, sat up in bed and sighed, feeling badly that she'd forgotten their plan for this morning. Stayed on facebook too late last night, she thought to herself. Grabbing her robe, she tiptoed out of her room and followed Hank to the kitchen. She found him pulling the tops off strawberries their mother had purchased the day before. Looking up, he grinned at her.
"I knew you'd help. How many pancakes you figure Dad can eat?"
"Prob'ly at least four, if Mom doesn't stop him. Let's see if we can make them square so they look like a flag. We can put some whipped cream on the fruit for stars!"
"Dad'll love that, and Mom won't; too much cholesterol, Booth! she'll say!" Hank chortled.
"You got that right! I guess we could make chocolate chip pancakes, and use those white chocolate chips," Christine mused.
"Ew, no, those are good in cookies, but they don't taste right in pancakes. I tried that last month when we ran out of the dark ones."
A half hour later, the Booth children trooped up the stairs to their parents' room, each carrying a lap tray. A stack of somewhat rectangular pancakes were garnished by blueberries in the top left corner, sliced strawberries arranged in rows across the remainder, alternated with a thin ribbon of whipped cream in between. One plate held crispy bacon strips, the other did not. Hank placed an ear to the door, and hearing silence, turned the doorknob, and entered the room. Setting the breakfast tray on Booth's night stand, he gently shook his father's shoulder. Christine mirrored his actions on Brennan's side of the spacious bed.
"Happy Presidents' Day, Dad! We made you breakfast to thank you for protecting us, and everybody else," the two kids chorused.
Booth rolled away from his wife, and smiled at his lanky son. Stuffing a pillow behind his back, he sat up in bed and grinned at his daughter.
"Thanks, you two! That's very thoughty of you guys, as Pops used to say!"
"We've gotta go downstairs and get your coffee; be back in a jiffy."
"Okay, take your time so you don't burn your hands; and give us a minute to use the bathroom, too," their father called after them.
Booth nudged the sleeping woman next to him.
"Bones, wake up! We need to get some clothes on before they get back."
Brennan rummaged under the bed covers, pulled out an ancient faded FBI tshirt and pulled it over her head. Next to her, Booth wriggled into his sleep pants, then flung back the blankets and strode to their ensuite bathroom.
The Booth children wisely gave their parents some breathing room. In the past when they were younger, each had made the mistake bursting into the master bedroom unannounced. This time both Hank and Christine exaggerated their footsteps ascending the stairs and coming down the hallway to herald their imminent caffeine-laden arrival. Finding the door already open, they brought a new set of filled steaming mugs, especially painted and fired by Angela, sporting sparkly white stars and ribbons of bright red and navy blue.
"Aunt Angela made these just for you guys!" Hank announced with a flourish.
"Once you've drunk your coffee, turn them over for an extra surprise!" advised Christine.
"Wonder what Angela's been up to now?" muttered Booth under his breath.
"With Ange, you never know," replied Brennan after taking a sip of her coffee. "Just don't scald your mouth trying to find out. The kids got this hotter than MacDonald's!" she warned her husband.
Twenty minutes later, Booth's ears turned red as he upended his mug and read "Studly" on the bottom.
Brennan's was more subtle. "Bren, BFE," it read.
"Bum-F—Egypt?" Booth wondered aloud.
"My guess is 'best friend ever' Booth," came her answer.
"Ah, that makes more sense, but with Angela, you never know what's coming!" he chortled.
"You've got that right!" she agreed.
"Wanna give the kids a shock?" Brennan asked Booth slyly.
"Sure, whatcha' got in mind?"
"KIDS!" the pair yelled in unison.
A thunder of feet was followed by two confused faces peering in their doorway.
"What the h-? Are you guys okay?" Christine asked.
"Yes, we're perfect! We just wanted to thank you for being so thoughtful!"
"Jeez, Dad, Mom, don't scare us like that! We thought you spilled your coffee or sumthin'," Hank gasped.