The Continuing Saga of the Sausage and Pancake on a Stick

Daniel has a new breakfast favorite: sausage and pancake on a stick. It is a Jimmy Dean creation, and reportedly tastes a lot like a McGriddle, without the syrup pockets.

One evening as Daniel was readying himself for bed, we were discussing the lengthy name associated with this breakfast treat, and pondering options for a shorter name, a "nickname", if you will. After much thoughtful deliberation, we landed on the name "SAPAS". Sausage And Pancake on A Stick. Perfect.

The next morning, I hear Mark and Daniel in the kitchen. "Faststick," I hear Mark say. "That's what you should call it. Like Breakfast, but without the break. Just fast. Fast Stick."

Now, imagine with me if you will, one of those moments on Lost. One of those moments when you know that one of the characters is about to have a flashback. That sucking sound starts, and the camera begins to zoom in on my eyeball. When it zooms out again, the year is 1997.

I am in a toystore. I find an adorable little stuffed moose. "Perfect for my adorable little son Ben." I buy the moose.

Excitedly, I drive home. This is the toy, I'm thinking. The one he will sneak into his suitcase when he goes to camp because it reminds him of mom. The one that he will look at nostagically as he packs for college because it reminds him of mom. Such a significant toy needs a significant name, I think. What shall we name it? Montgomery Moose? It could work. Alowishus Moose? Might be too hard to spell. I pondered and pondered all the way home. I had great plans for the naming of this moose. The name must be perfect.

I get home. I lovingly present Ben with his gift. As he begins to chew on it, I say "What should we name the moose?" My list of suggestions are about to follow, when I hear Mark say "Bob. Bob Moose. Done."

Zoom back to the present, and we're back on the island. I mean, back in the kitchen. Something deep within me snaps. I whisper "Bob Moose" to myself like some unspeakable swear word. "No!" I yell loudly. "We're calling it a SAPAS. Faststick is a bad, bad name. SAPAS. SAPAS!"

Needless to say, this has continued to spiral downward into an ugly, ugly mess of cruel words and breakfast foods. Mark is staunchly supporting his choice, and I mine. Mark even went so far as to create a mock-up of a Faststick box, in some insane marketing ploy, pictured here:

Daniel, meanwhile, can't figure out what's happened to his otherwise normal parents. Breakfast at our house has become a ticking time bomb. We found a crazy Scottish monk living in our basement, and last week I shot a polar bear in the backyard. Oh no wait, that's another post.

So how about you? SAPAS? Or Faststick?