CO-WRITTEN BY CHRISTY ZOE MORALES
ALL THREE of my children write, but lately my youngest, who is a teacher overseas, has been especially drawn to putting her thoughts into words. When she shared this piece with me, it touched my heart in ways I did not expect.
As parents, we often go through our days doing ordinary things for our children, preparing meals, caring for the home, creating traditions, and simply being there.
We rarely stop to think which of those moments will stay with them. Yet, years later, those seemingly small acts of love often become the memories they cherish most. I am sharing an excerpt from one of Zoe’s recent stories because it is a beautiful reminder that the little things we do for our children matter more than we may ever know.
As I sat down and prepared for my lessons for the day, carefully picking up tiny bits of scrap paper from my desk, a student greeted me with a sweet good morning. I greeted him back and gestured for him to unpack his bag and get ready for class. Before he did, he excitedly shared something happy about his breakfast. His mom had made him delicious pancakes, drizzled with maple syrup, which I believed was probably still on his cheeks.
I happily shared that my mom used to make pancakes for me too, and for a moment, I danced along with the same excitement before reminding him to prepare for class. But for a little while, I stopped and thought about the pancakes my mom had made for me.
She had a way of preparing them that could make any child’s breakfast feel a little more special. She would make me a Mickey Mouse pancake, three little circles carefully placed together in a pan.
Suddenly, the loud and crowded morning of first period smelled like pancakes and maple syrup. I could almost imagine my mom in our little kitchen early in the morning, stirring the batter and scooping it into a pan, making three circles just so I could have my Mickey Mouse pancake.
So I went back to my student and told him what I had remembered. He, in turn, told me more about how his mom made his.
And when the day ended, I returned home to my small apartment and found myself reminiscing about Mom again. I thought about the things she used to do that I never thought much about when I was younger. I loved the smell of her home cooking and the sound of her cleaning early in the morning. Even on quiet days, I could hear her somewhere in the garden, planting or moving pots around.
Somehow, thinking about Mom in those ordinary moments always brings me back to Christmas. I loved waking up to the sound of groceries being brought into the house, the kitchen slowly filling with the noise of pots and pans, and Dad moving around the house to help Mom with whatever she needed.
I remember Mom always leading the team during these times. Dad was always somewhere nearby helping, while my siblings and I added our own little flair with the decorations, lights, and song choice.
Eventually, the house would be clean. The food would be ready. The warm lights would be up, and we would all sit down together. Dad would lead the prayer, and then we’d dine and thank God for what He had done for our family that year.
At the time, Christmas was just Christmas. We didn’t really think about everything that had to happen before we could sit around that table together. We just got to enjoy it. We were allowed to just be children.
Now, I find myself missing that version of home sometimes. There’s no one in the kitchen making noise in the morning or moving things around the house. It’s just me, doing the things I never really noticed someone was always doing for us.
Maybe that’s what the little boy in my classroom reminded me of that morning. He was so excited to tell me about his pancakes because, to him, it was simply something his mom did that made him happy.
And I realized I had one of those memories too.
So, Mom, I suppose this is just my long way of saying that I notice those things now. The little things you did that I didn’t know were little acts of love at the time.
The breakfasts, the cooking, the Christmas preparations, the garden, the way you made our home feel like somewhere we could simply be kids without worry.
Thank you for the pancakes, Mom!
Reading Zoe’s reflections reminded me that childhood is built not only on grand celebrations and milestones, but also on ordinary moments repeated with love.
A special breakfast, the sounds of a busy kitchen, holiday preparations, or simply the comfort of being cared for can become treasured memories that last a lifetime.
As parents, we may never fully know which moments our children will carry with them into adulthood. But stories like this reassure us that love leaves footprints in the smallest places. And sometimes, years later, those footprints take the shape of three little circles in a pan… a Mickey Mouse pancake.
“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6
Ruth Sitchon Morales is a full-time instructor at a state university in Mindanao, specializing in foreign language education. She is a resource speaker, freelance writer, and textbook author, and is currently pursuing doctoral studies in applied linguistics. Along with her husband and their three children, Ruth served as an ESL teacher and a cross-cultural worker in China, Malaysia, Thailand, and Africa. Her formal studies in foreign languages, enriched by immersion in diverse foreign and local cultures, have given her a broad perspective on life and a wealth of stories to share with her readers.
