Dad's Pancakes

   When I was about 14 or 15, the company my mom worked for was getting ready to undergo an audit.  As a result, my mom had to work several long days at the office, sometimes getting up before the rest of us, and then coming home late in the evening.  My sister and I knew how to cook, at least enough to prepare something relatively uncomplicated.
   One morning, though, my mom had left early and my dad decided he would cook breakfast.
   "What do you guys want?  Pancakes?" he asked.
   "I'd like scrambled eggs and bacon," I said.  My sister seemed to be okay with a bowl of cereal and toast.
   "No, I'm going to fix pancakes," my dad replied.
   "Dad, do you know how to make pancakes?" we asked.  When it came to burgers or steaks on the grill, he was pretty good.  However, we'd never known him to cook inside the house.
   "How hard could it be?" he answered.  "The directions are on the box."
   Okay, that made some sense.  And we did have a box of the kind that you just add water to, which made it pretty much foolproof, right?
   After he'd been cooking for awhile, he called out, "Okay, first batch is done!"
   Mouth watering, I went into the kitchen and saw a plate stacked with the thickest pancakes I'd ever seen.  Wow!  I wondered how he managed to get them so fluffy.  On closer inspection, they looked more lumpy than fluffy.
   "Go ahead!  Dig in!" he said, watching my sister and me, but not trying one himself.
   I poured syrup on mine and cut into one.  *Pfff!*  A small cloud of dried mix came out.
   "Eww!  Dad!  Gross!" said my sister, who had cut into hers.  "It's not even cooked on the inside."
   "Did you follow the directions?" I asked my dad, who seemed puzzled at our hesitation to actually bite into our pancakes.
   "Sure," he said.  "It says to just add water, so I added water, mixed it, and cooked it."
   "Did you measure it?" asked my sister.
   "I guess I didn't add enough water," he said.  "You kids go watch TV or something.  I'll fix this."
   The next batch came out as thin as tortillas and were burnt.  It turned out that instead of measuring out the mix and water, he just "eyeballed it" and added water to what he already had, and then stirred the batter until it was smooth...and soupy.
   I'm not sure what we did for breakfast that morning - most likely it was cereal.  But I do know that for years afterward, any time my sister and I misbehaved my parents would say, "Careful!  Or Dad's going to make pancakes again."