Prologue sorry I'm a slow person and i only changed a sentence but it makes a little more sense now... i hope
I used to love mornings; the sweet alluring smell of pancakes; mom humming ridiculously off key under her breath. The beat of the whisk as she turned the batter, over and over and over then resting and starting again. How when I woke quietly, she mightiness been dancing every now and then while cooking, and her embarrassment as she noticed me unable to hold my laughter in. Whenever I made a mistake she would refer to what my father would do. And how she glared at me when as I scarfed down my food, and would scold me that girls s