Stamping Pancakes

I made pancakes for breakfast. They weren't very good. I used the leftover pancake mix from our ward picnic for the Fourth of July. (I'm a pancake snob.)

Well. Breakfast was a few hours ago, and apparently there were a few pancakes left on the table.

Isaac says, from the table, "I'm stamping pancakes!"

"WHAT are you doing?!" John and I were a little confused.

"I'm stamping the pancakes! To make them taste good!" Isaac happily explains.

John goes over there and then pokes his head in the living room, and tells me, "Um, he's stamping pancakes? Does that mean we need to throw them away?"

Laughing at John, I tell Isaac, "We don't stamp on our food. The ink isn't good for our bodies. Ink from the stamps isn't food, and we only eat food. Food is good for our bodies, not stamps."

Isaac is sad, a little disappointed. "I wanted them to taste good." I guess he knows better than to think Krusteaz tastes good, and so I feel pride as a mother.

We all return to our respective projects, on our respective rooms. After the bathroom sink is running for a complete minute, I realize that maybe there's a new project going on that I didn't know about. So I go to check it out.

Oh. It's Isaac. Washing the stamps off his pancakes. And then bringing soggy pancakes (still stamped) to the table.

"Isaac, we don't wash pancakes." I try to say it gently. I don't want him to feel reprimanded...

"Why?"

"Well, when we wash pancakes, they get soggy, and then they don't taste good anymore."

"I was just trying to make them taste good and get the stamps off."

"Oh. We don't wash pancakes."

I guess the pancakes didn't taste good today.