Hi guys! It's been a while since I updated this story, and a lot is going on. I'm still working on "Lilianna," now on chapter 106. I published the first chapter of a story I pray to continue called "Gondor's Grace" after I finish "Lilianna." I also started a draft to what I pray will be my first published devotional.

I'm also trying to get ideas to start a series of stories based around Donatello and April, similar to this one I'm sharing with you today. I've created a poll about this if you'd like to share your opinion on that.

So, inspiration for this story was actually very sudden. I was off work today and I spent most of my day watching the "TMNT" 2012 series. Seeing the way Donnie cared about April in season 4 made me think, hey, what if Donnie tried cooking for the first time? Thus, this story was born. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything related to "TMNT." I only own Lilianna. Song is listed below.


Song: "Bombastic Plastic" by Black N' Blue

Family: Lilianna, April, Donatello, and Michelangelo

Timeline: May 11, 2025

Setting: North Hampton, New York, USA

POV: Donatello


I woke up at four in the morning. I glanced over at my beautiful red-haired wife and kissed her on her temple. I smiled, then I got out of bed. I left the bedroom without my lab coat, because today was different.

I walked across the hall into my baby girl's room. My smile widened as I walked in and gazed at her little face. There was a slight smile on her face as she held on to her stuffed cardinal with her small three-fingered hands. I leaned down over crib and I also kissed her on her temple.

"I love you so much, my Lily Mae," I whispered.

She cooed in response in her sleep. Then I left the room. I went down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Alright, Donnie," I told myself as put on April's yellow apron. "It's just using chemistry to make pancakes. How hard can this be? But first..."

I plugged my T-phone into the stereo and put on one of my favorite songs. I made sure to keep the volume down as my two girls were still asleep. After the song started, I went into the pantry.

"Okay, what do we need to make pancakes?" I asked myself, trying to remember the recipe I read last night.

While talking to myself, I grabbed the flour, sugar, baking powder, and vanilla extract. After I set these components down, I opened the fridge and grabbed the milk, eggs, and butter.

"I need a bowl," I said to myself.

I opened the cabinets and grabbed two bowls, just in case.

"All right! Let's do this!"

"What is this I see sitting here in front of me?"

My confident smile quickly faded away.

"What am I staring at?" I asked out loud, realizing I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

I walked back into the living room, unplugged my phone from the stereo, and brought it back with me. I resumed the song before I pulled up the recipe.

"Black as any night. Listen, old man, you'll see the light."

"Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl," I read out loud. "But how much?"

I scrolled down farther to try to find measurements.

"Ah-ha! One and a half cups of flour."

"Spinning round and round. Crank it up, listen to the sound."

I grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled the flour not quite to the top. I poured the flour into the bowl and then filled the cup halfway and poured that in.

"Two... tablespoons of sugar?" I said, clearly feeling puzzled. "What's a tablespoon?"

I pulled open a drawer and grabbed a spoon. I placed two spoonfuls of sugar into the bowl with the flour.

"Bombastic plastic. No matter what you day, this really blows me away."

"One tablespoon of baking powder," I read before using the same spoon. "And one-half teaspoon of fine sea or table salt. A teaspoon? What's the difference?"

I used the same spoon and only filled the spoon halfway with the salt.

"Now what?" I asked out loud, scrolling back up to the top.

"I play it every day, scratched and skipping all the way."

"Whisk melted butter, milk, egg, and vanilla in another."

I glanced up in confusion.

"Melted butter? No one mentioned that!"

"Good things don't come and go. This one seems to grow and grow."

I paused the music, took the butter, and ran to my lab. I turned on the Benson burner and held the butter over it.

"Shoot!" I exclaimed. "It's melting too fast!"

I grabbed a small bowl that I saw off to the side and placed the butter in it. I took the paper off, turned the burner off, and ran back inside. I resumed the music and placed the butter in the second bowl I had grabbed from the cabinet.

"Spinning round and round. Crank it up, listen to the sound."

"One and a quarter cups of milk," I read, scrolling back down and filling the same cup with milk.

"Bombastic plastic. No matter what you say, this really blows me away."

"One large egg," I read. "Wait, do I just put the whole egg in the bowl?"

I paused the music again and called my brother.

"What up, D?"

"Hi, Mikey. I need your help with something. I'm making pancakes for April for Mother's Day."

"Wait, you are making pancakes? Have you ever cooked before, D?"

"Well, no. That's why I'm calling you. I have a question. The recipe calls for large egg. How exactly do you put an egg in the bowl? Do you put it in whole?"

"NO!" Mikey shouted. "Have some common sense, D! You don't put the entire egg in the bowl! You have to crack the egg open on an edge and let the yolk and egg whites out."

"Ah, gotcha. Thanks! See you later, Mikey."

"Donnie, wait--"

I hung up the phone and resumed the music.

"Bombastic plastic. No matter what you say, it's gonna blow you away."

I cracked the egg on the edge of the bowl... way too hard. The contents of the egg, including the shell, got all over the bowl, the counter, and myself. With a deadpanned expression, I grabbed another egg.

"This really blows me away!" the singer screamed as I got all of the shell out of the bowl. "Hear what I say!"

This time, I gently cracked the egg.

"Oh!" I exclaimed with a smile. "I get it now!"

I found an opening with my sticky thumbs and finished cracking the egg open, its contents falling freely into the bowl, this time without any shell fragments. I laughed as the guitar solo continued in the background.

"What's next? Five tablespoons of unsalted butter, I got that. Two teaspoons vanilla extract."

I used the same spoon and poured two spoonfuls of vanilla into the bowl.

"Stir wet ingredients into the flour."

I poured all the ingredients into the other bowl and used the same spoon to mix everything together.

"As you stir," I continued to read. "The batter will start to thicken and get bubbly (that's the baking powder working its magic!). Be careful not to mix too much, or your pancakes won't be as fluffy. We want to keep those bubbles. So I'm mixing it all together until I see bubbles. Got it."

"Spinning round and round. Crank it up, listen to the sound. Bombastic plastic. No matter what you say, this thing really blows me away. Bombastic plastic. No matter what you say, this sucker blows me away!"

Just as I finished stirring and the bubbles began to show up, the song finished and went to a song played on the piano.

"To cook your pancakes, heat a skillet or flat griddle to medium heat."

I reached up to grab a skillet, placed it on the stove, and turned it on.

"Melt some... more butter?" I asked out loud. "At least I already have a fire going."

I grabbed another stick of butter from the fridge, took it out of its paper, and put it right on the pan. I went back to my phone and read the next instruction.

"You can use a one-fourth cup to measure or a large cookie scoop to scoop the pancake batter into your skillet. That makes sense."

I took a ladle. Once all the butter melted, I scooped the batter into the ladle and poured it into the skillet. The batter went right to the edge of the skillet, and I smiled in satisfaction as I read the next step.

"Flip the pancakes when the edges look dry, and bubbles appear and pop on the top surfaces. Now, how does Mikey do it?" I asked.

When I saw bubbles coming, I held on to the pan and did a flipping motion. The pancake flew in the air. Only a quarter of the pancake made it back in to the pan. The rest splattered on the counter, on the floor, and on me. I cooked what's left of the pancake, set it aside on a plate, and tried again. I had tried making three more pancakes. Only one was made perfectly.

"Well, it's better than nothing," I said out loud. "But April's gonna want more than just one pancake. Maybe some cereal and milk."

I picked up a tray from another room, placed the lone pancake on it, and then I gathered a bowl and poured some Cocoa Puffs in it. I poured a glass of milk in a separate glass.

I glanced at the time. To my disbelief, it was already five-thirty. April would be waking up any minute. I groaned at the mess I made. I decided to spend the next half hour cleaning the kitchen and put all the dishes in the sink. Then, it was time.

I brought the tray up the stairs and opened the door to our bedroom.

"Oh, April!" I sang sweetly. "Happy Mother's Day!"

She moaned herself awake and smiled. She gasped with delight when she saw me with the tray.

"Oh, Donnie! That's so thoughtful of you! Did you do this yourself?"

"Yep! Sure did!"

I handed her the tray, and her smile turned into a look of confusion.

"Only one pancake?"

"Hence the cereal and milk," I sheepishly replied. "It was my first time."

She smiled at me.

"You tried and gave it your all, D. Thank you so much."

"I followed the recipe to a T!"

April giggled as she took a bite of her pancake. But she had a weird look on her face.

"Donnie, are you sure you followed the recipe?"

"Yes, why?"

"What all did you use? This pancake is way too thick and buttery."

"Baking powder, sugar, flour, vanilla, eggs, milk, and butter. Did I add too much of something?"

"Probably everything, D. Did you measure it all?"

"Yes! I used a glass in the cabinet."

"A glass?" April asked, shaking her head. "Oh, no."

"Uh-oh," I replied nervously.

"Donnie, you do know we have measuring cups, right?"

I hesitated, and then I gulped.

"No. I am so, so sorry, April. Maybe I should let you do the cooking next time."

"Are you kidding?" April replied with a grin. "Just you trying to cook for me is enough of a gesture to tell me you love me. You tried your best. I love you, Donnie."

"I love you too, A."

I leaned in and kissed her. I smiled when she kissed me back.

"Why don't I make it up to you?" I asked. "I can leave Lily with the guys. I can have Mikey make spaghetti and garlic bread. And I can take you out to a lovely dinner on a rooftop in New York."

We kissed again.

"I love that idea," she replied. "It's a date."

We kissed again and spent the next hour together, just the two of us.