A phone call between my sister S, and myself:
S: I had the weirdest dream last night.
Me: Oooh! You know I love a good dream! Carry on.
S: I dreamed I got kidnapped by Ryan Reynolds.
Me: Awwww YEAAAAH!! Good for you.
S: It wasn’t just me, though. Him and a couple of other people kidnapped, like, seven other people and me. And then they put us to work in a fake bait & tackle store.
Me: S, this is YOUR dream, and that’s what you chose to have him do?
S: I know, I know, but it gets better. So, Ryan realizes the cops are going to raid this bait & tackle store, and I suddenly get all Stockholm Syndrome-y, and I say, “I know! Let’s have an orgy!”
Me: And an orgy was going to help cover a kidnapping, how? But I like where this is going. So then what?
S: I woke up.
Me: You suck.
S: I know.
I am lazing about in bed. The husband has arisen with the children, and has acquiesced to their demands for pancakes. I wander down, eventually, and try to open my eyes.
From the kitchen: “Hey Gin, you want pancakes?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Oh. Well, you need to have at least two.”
I can hear number one son ask his father, “Dad, what ARE those pancakes supposed to be?”
There is a slight pause.
“Um….double scoop ice cream cones.”
And I know, immediately, without a visual, what is coming my way:
(Note: I have no rights to the Ryan Reynolds photo. I borrowed it from another blog. That also did not have the rights to it. But the pancocks? That picture is all mine.)