Happy Mother's Day, Love Elmer

I have a very sweet husband. He's kind and thoughtful and generous and unselfish and a horrific cook. He made me breakfast this morning for Mother's Day. I tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn't let me help, so I just stayed upstairs with visions of fires and messes dancing in my head. When we finally sat down to breakfast, Tate tasted the pancakes, leans over to me and whispers, "They're disgusting!" Lucy took a bite and said, "Ooh, Daddy, can I have cereal?" I gathered my courage, determined not to hurt his feelings, and stuck one bite in my mouth. It was as if a third grader mixed rubber cement and Elmer's glue, then fried it. Kind of crunchy on the outside and adhesivey in the middle. I smiled and said, "They're great. Thanks for being so nice." Miles, the human garbage disposal, took two or three bites in rapid succession. After his taste buds caught up with his fork, he quickly spit it out on his plate and said, "Ew."
Jake watched all of this, then he stuck a bite in his own mouth. After considerable effort, he swallowed and said, "Should we have cereal for breakfast?"
The kids cheered, I dumped it all in the trash, and everyone enjoyed Frosted Mini Wheats for Mother's Day.