As the alarm clock went off, the wafting aroma of pancakes floated through the air. Jane sniffed once, then twice, realizing what was being made downstairs. At the realization, she shot out of bed, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas lest she be to late to enjoy her favorite breakfast treat.

She rushed downstairs, sock-clad feet thumping against the hard wood floor, and slid into the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” she chirped out the question directed at her mother.

Her mother laughed and tousled Jane’s short-cropped hair “You always did like your pancakes, though never enough to make them yourself.”

Jane mock-scowled, “You know how easily I screw them up; they never come out right. Besides, you still haven’t answered my question.”

Her mother laughed again. “No occasion, just a craving and time to spare.”