By Father's Day. Sean's first. I woke up early and made blueberry pancakes, the kind with lemon zest in the batter, while Liam napped, and had them ready when Sean came down. He ate three and held Liam through the rest of the meal and looked at ease in a way he looks more and more—like fatherhood has arranged itself around him instead of the other way around. He's good at it. I don't know why I'm surprised. Sean is good at anything that requires patience and showing up.
We called Sean Sr. in the morning and went to my father's in the afternoon. My father made brisket—he does it in a slow cooker now, eight hours, fall-apart tender with onion and carrots—and we sat in my parents' backyard for the first time this summer and my father held Liam and my father smiled, which he does rarely and never performatively, so when it happens it registers like weather.
Sean's card to me—I'd given him a card in the morning and somehow he'd gotten me one too—said "couldn't have done this without you." Which is technically true and also which is Sean, the practical register of feeling, the thing he actually means when he says it. I love him for saying what he means and meaning what he says and not much else. Not everyone gets that. I'm aware.
Liam is twelve weeks old and growing out of things at a pace that seems designed to destabilize. I put him in an outfit that fit last week and it didn't fit this week. He has tripled his wardrobe in three months via gifts and he still runs out of options. The rate of change is dizzying and I'm documenting it anyway.
The blueberry pancakes were for Sean in the morning, and they were exactly right for that moment — lemon zest, warm plates, a sleeping baby buying us twenty quiet minutes. But by the time we got home from my parents’ that evening, Liam full and drowsy and Sean still carrying that particular ease he’d worn all day, I wanted to make one more thing with my hands. I had three bananas going soft on the counter and these bars came together in under an hour — dense and chocolatey and just sweet enough, the kind of thing that doesn’t need an occasion but tasted better for having one.
Banana Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 16 bars
Ingredients
- 3 ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 1/4 cups)
- 1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
- 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
- 1 large egg
- 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
- 1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
- 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp fine salt
- 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips, divided
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Line an 8x8-inch baking pan with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on two sides for easy lifting.
- Mash and mix wet ingredients. In a large bowl, mash the ripe bananas until smooth with only a few small lumps remaining. Whisk in the melted butter, brown sugar, egg, and vanilla until fully combined.
- Add dry ingredients. Stir in the oats, flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt until just combined — do not overmix.
- Fold in chocolate chips. Reserve about 2 tablespoons of chocolate chips for topping, then fold the rest into the batter.
- Fill the pan. Spread the batter evenly into the prepared pan using a spatula. Scatter the reserved chocolate chips over the top and press them in gently.
- Bake. Bake for 22—25 minutes, until the top is set and golden at the edges and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs.
- Cool completely before slicing. Let the bars cool in the pan for at least 20 minutes, then lift out using the parchment overhang and cut into 16 squares. They firm up nicely as they cool.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 178 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 62mg