Tomás woke up with a wiggle.
The sun was playing peek-a-boo through his window.
He could smell Abuela's coffee — a sleepy, happy smell.
But the house was quiet. Too quiet.
He tiptoed out of his room. Pat, pat, pat went his bare feet on the cool wood floor.
He peeked into Abuela's room. She was still a cozy lump under her quilt.
A wonderful idea popped into his head. A big, yummy, bubbly idea.
He would make pancakes! A surprise for Abuela.
In the kitchen, sunlight danced on the cabinets.
Tomás pulled a stool to the counter. Scraaaape.
He found the big yellow bowl — his favorite.
He found the little whisk that made a happy ting-ting-ting sound.
Now, for the ingredients.
Tomás opened the pantry. He knew what pancakes needed. Something white and fluffy.
He saw a big box. It had white, fluffy stuff inside.
Perfect! He took a giant scoop. Foomp! A soft white cloud puffed into the air.
He put it in the bowl.
Next, something sweet. He found a shaker that looked just like the sugar shaker.
He shook it and shook it over the bowl. Shicka-shicka-shick.
A little white mountain grew right in the middle of the fluffy stuff.
Pancakes needed eggs.
He opened the refrigerator. No eggs! But he saw two round, red, shiny things. They looked like happy little balls.
Tomás grabbed one. It was a tomato!
He put it in the bowl and tried to crack it with the spoon. Bonk. Bonk. Nothing happened!
So he picked it up and squeezed it with both hands.
SQUISH!
Red juice and tiny seeds went everywhere! On his shirt! On his nose! On the big yellow bowl!
Tomás giggled.
He plopped the squishy tomato into the bowl.
Last, milk. He saw a carton and poured it in. Glug, glug, glug.
But it wasn't white milk. It was orange juice! It made everything look lumpy and funny and a little bit orange.
Tomás grabbed the whisk.
He stirred everything together.
Whizz. Clump. Squish. Whizz.
The batter didn't look right. It was bumpy. It was bubbly. And it smelled kind of funny.
But he had made it all by himself! He felt very proud.
Just then, Abuela came into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Tomás, mi amor, what is that wonderful… smell?"
She saw the mess. She saw the empty boxes. She saw the proud smile on Tomás's face.
She peeked into the big yellow bowl. The lumpy, bubbly, orange batter looked right back at her.
She didn't frown. She didn't scold.
A little smile played on her lips. She dipped in a finger and tasted a tiny bit.
Her face scrunched up like a raisin.
"Ay, cariño," she chuckled. "These are very… special pancakes."
Tomás's smile wobbled.
Abuela pulled him into a warm hug — not even caring about the tomato on his shirt.
"How about," she whispered, "we make some new special pancakes? Together."
Tomás nodded, and his smile came right back.
He pushed the stool next to Abuela.
She got out the real flour, the real sugar, and the real eggs.
And this time, when they whisked it all together in a clean blue bowl, it made a beautiful, smooth, happy sound.
They cooked the pancakes side by side, and they ate them side by side too — warm and golden and sweet.
And those were the best pancakes Tomás ever tasted.
Because he made them with Abuela.
