Banana pancakes

I promised her banana pancakes,
and then I took her clothes shopping.

Three stores, and a melt-down later
(have you ever experienced a melt-down from a 7-year-old red-head?)
We didn't find what we were looking for... what *I* was looking for for her which she wouldn't agree with...

The water in our bottles vanished on this 39-degree day (that's 102.2 for you Americans),
and I was in pain.
And so, so, so tired.
I looked pretty awful, too,
the mirror reflected back to me.

I drove us home,
with the air-conditioning groaning it's way to cold,
and my little girl in the back, arms folded across her chest,
disappointed that she didn't get anything.

Arriving home, I was wiped out, in pain, and dehydrated.
My oldest son brought me a few cups of water,
one after the other.
Thanks, Dovie. Your eagerness soothes not only my thirst,
but my tired bones and soul as well.

A noodle/tuna/cheese casserole was waiting in the kitchen,
freshly made by her loving father.
But she still wanted pancakes.

I could've put my foot down
and said 'not tonight'.
She'd have survived that, I'm quite sure.
But I picked up my creaking,
protesting body
and made her pancakes.
Whole wheat flour, yogurt, eggs,
sweet, mushy bananas.
She feverishly ate six!
I hope she gets how much I love her.