The undocumented pancake blow back / Vestibule

A scene you've undoubtedly scene in several movies:

[The kids sit anxiously around the kitchen table, forks and knives in hand. Dad's standing over the stove wearing a Penn University XXL t-shirt, a pair of sweats, and a day's worth of stubble. He's holding a spatula and flipping pancakes. Mom is leaning against the kitchen counter sipping her large mug of coffee, smiling, soaking it all in.]

Dad: Ok Billy, hope you're hungry. One triple stack of smiley faced pancakes coming up.
Billy: Yay!!
Dad: What about you princess? What do you want for breakfast?
Julie: I want bacon!
Dad: Bacon it is. Anything else?
Julie: And waffles.
Dad: How about bacon and waffles with strawberries and whip cream for the little lady?
Julie: Yay!!
As Dad is serving breakfast a horn honks outside
Mom: That's the bus.
Dad: OK guys don't forget to grab your lunches.
Billy: Bye Mom. Bye Dad.
Julie: Bye Dad. Bye Mom.
Dad: Good luck on that math test big guy.
Billy and Julie scamper out the door to catch the bus.
Dad: Christ they grow up fast.
Mom: They're good kids. I love you Jim.
Dad: I love you too

END SCENE

The aftermath that's never shown:

Mom: One question though. Why'd you cook them pancakes and waffles?
Dad: Because it's my specialty. You know that.
Mom: I understand that but you know they had school today.
Dad: Yeah. So?
Mom: And they just left to catch the bus without eating any breakfast.
Dad: Hey. It's not every day that I'm able to cook for them. I thought it would be a nice gesture to make them something special.
Mom: I understand the sentiment but they're on a pretty tight morning schedule. It doesn't make any sense to serve them a Denny's style breakfast when they only have 5 minutes to eat.
Dad: Well excuse me for trying to jolt a little excitement and spontaneity into this family.
Mom: This is the type of shit I've been talking about with Dr. Spendler. You're a fucking ghost six days out of the week and you think you can magically make up for it by cooking a batch of pancakes on a Thursday morning that the kids can't even eat.
Dad: Cheryl, they're fucking pancakes. Let's not make a federal case of it. You and that shrink think you can selectively grab these isolated incidents and draw grand conclusions about how I'm compensating for my own feelings of abandonment or whatever other psycho-babble bullshit happens to be the hot topic of the week. Fact is they were just some fucking pancakes. They can be saran wrapped and put in the fridge and we can have breakfast for dinner. Now if we're done here I need to go put on my monkey suit and head to the office where I'll get shit from Paul and Felix for requesting next Thursday and Friday off so we can visit your train wreck of a sister in rehab.
Mom: Fuck you Jim. What did I ever do to you?
Dad: Ahh blow me. Or should I say not blow me.
Mom: You're a monster.
Dad shoves a whole pancake in his mouth and makes a monster face at Mom before heading upstairs to change. Mom sits at the kitchen table and sobs as her coffee gets cold.

End Scene