This afternoon after laying Annie down for her nap, I walked into the kitchen to find Jake standing on a stool with my Fannie Farmer cookbook open in front of him.
"Oh, hey, Mom," he said over his shoulder, "Does powdered sugar work as well as regular sugar for a cake?"
"Umm...no. Wait, what?" Then I saw the powdered sugar (fortunately not yet opened) on the counter, too.
"Jake, what are you doing?"
"I'm making you a coffee cake. See, it's quick." (The name of the recipe was "Quick Coffee Cake.")
I know, it was cute, it was sweet, BUT I'd spent over an hour scouring almost every inch of the kitchen before putting Annie down. What I didn't want at that moment was flour and sugar all over the place. I squashed his creative (and culinary) impulse with a diversionary tactic.
"Hey, Jake, want a peanut butter cookie?"
And with that, the cake was forgotten.
Annie helped in her own way this evening. I left the room to start their bath water, and when I returned Annie was "helping" with the laundry. Or anyway, she was wearing one pair of my panties on her head, another she was swinging around in circles...
"Annie, what are you doing with my underwear?"
At that, Jake groaned and dove under a couch cushion, yelling, "Your underwear??? My eyes! My eyes!"
Just another day, folks...it's a party all the time (complete with underwear on the head and cake).
"Oh, hey, Mom," he said over his shoulder, "Does powdered sugar work as well as regular sugar for a cake?"
"Umm...no. Wait, what?" Then I saw the powdered sugar (fortunately not yet opened) on the counter, too.
"Jake, what are you doing?"
"I'm making you a coffee cake. See, it's quick." (The name of the recipe was "Quick Coffee Cake.")
I know, it was cute, it was sweet, BUT I'd spent over an hour scouring almost every inch of the kitchen before putting Annie down. What I didn't want at that moment was flour and sugar all over the place. I squashed his creative (and culinary) impulse with a diversionary tactic.
"Hey, Jake, want a peanut butter cookie?"
And with that, the cake was forgotten.
Annie helped in her own way this evening. I left the room to start their bath water, and when I returned Annie was "helping" with the laundry. Or anyway, she was wearing one pair of my panties on her head, another she was swinging around in circles...
"Annie, what are you doing with my underwear?"
At that, Jake groaned and dove under a couch cushion, yelling, "Your underwear??? My eyes! My eyes!"
Just another day, folks...it's a party all the time (complete with underwear on the head and cake).
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