Quote: Just a shake of the head in defeat.
Day 1: child 1.
Halloween gingerbread cookies, that’s what we were making. Six year old Alex and I were embracing the spookiness and the kitchen in one fell swoop. We both love cooking and, like most people, eating the raw mixture is our favourite part. We measured out the ingredients and Alex cracked the eggs, which was eggspertly eggsecuted (a little cooking humour). Then we began the mixing.
Like any six year old he had to have a lick. Finger in then slurped right off. I had to step in.
“Please don’t lick your fingers until the end, then you can have the whole bowl.” Bribery? Maybe. But it was the truth.
After a hand wash we start the rolling out process. Sprinkling flour here, there and everywhere, Alex and I created a little mess and some excellent Halloween biscuits. A mess I could deal with but…
“…please don’t lick your fingers; other people have to eat these too”
Hands washed and more rolling and cutting, then baking, the most enjoyable licking of the bowl and finally decorating.
“Please don’t suck the end of the icing tube.”
“Okay.”
“Please don’t suck the end of the icing tube.”
“Okay, sorry.”
But it’s like a dummy, it’s almost immediately straight back in, and I was beginning not to care. I wanted it to be a creative, fun activity. The damage had been done really so suck away, kid. I’d like to say a quick sorry to those who ate the gingerbread biscuits.
Day 2: child 2.
New child, new challenge: Thomas, a little boy of four, wanted to cook chocolate chip cookies. Not my forté really, but sure why not. After all it’s great that he wanted to bake. We assembled our ingredients and measured everything out; he was already onto the chocolate chips and guess what? He was licking his fingers.
“Please don’t lick your fingers yet as other people will eat the cookies too, you can lick the bowl later.”
Stir, stir, lick, lick.
“Don’t lick your fingers.”
“Stir, stir, lick, roll, roll, lick.
“Please, wait until we finish.”
Roll, roll, munch munch, oh sod it, its cookie dough and frankly who can resist? Eat away, m’boy, and I’ll join you.
Thankfully we ate the dough because after being in the oven the cookies came out a little, well let’s just say a little uncookie like. I did say that they were not my forté. And because the cookies looked so bad no one else would want to eat them.
Moral of the story: if at first you don’t succeed, eat the dough. No that’s not the moral I was looking for. Moral of the story: If you can’t beat ‘em, eat the dough.
artycappuccino 