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As I was enjoying breakfast this morning, I noticed that as I got to my stack of pancakes, I slathered butter on each cake, then re-stacked them more neatly. I gracefully drizzled maple syrup in a zig-zag pattern over the entire stack. Picking up my knife and fork, I began to cut my pancakes. And after a few bites, I realized I was cutting my pancakes in a weird way. I was cutting my pancakes like a small child. I was cutting them in random patterns, like how Picasso cut up faces in his paintings. 

I found I enjoyed them far more in that random, unstructured, uncivilized way. I ate those pancakes with reckless abandon, enjoying every bite as a child would. They looked like one crazy-ass abstract piece of art when I was halfway through cutting them and eating them.

I think all my future pancakes will be treated with the same delight as the ones I had today.