Baking with Boy Boy

Baking is much more comfortable for me. There’s no open flame to deal with, and the twin charms of sugar and butter help to salve my misgivings.

I don’t usually invite Boy Boy to help, but he was interested to see what I was doing, and chocolate chip cookies seem fairly failproof — although there have been disasters along the way. I showed him how to wash his hands more carefully than usual, and rolled up his Thomas shirt sleeves. He’s tall enough now to see the table when he kneels on a chair, which is nice.

I started with the eggs and the genuine imitation vanilla, and told him to stir. I worried he would stir the eggs too vigorously, but I had no reason to worry — he didn’t totally comprehend what needed doing until I told him to “mix the brown with the yellow” and then he said, “Oh!”

When I added the two kinds of sugar and flour, again I told him to stir, and powder went flying all over the table. “Oops,” he said, but I told him to keep going. Sometimes it’s good to make a mess.   Soon he was singing “Do you know the Muffin Man?” 

The part I used to hate is now the easiest part of all: softened butter. A few quick beeps on the microwave make it so simple, and perfect. Once the butter was in there, he really wasn’t as interested in the goo. He didn’t want to touch it. When it was time to make balls of dough to place on the sheet, he held up a hand of sticky fingers and begged me to wipe them with a paper towel before proceeding. He’s so fastidious. Do I see any of myself, there?

Anyway, the cookies came out well, and Boy Boy broke with tradition to eat almost all of his dinner just to earn a freshly baked cookie.

I would like to hope he grows up with a more positive attitude toward cooking than I have.

One Response to “Baking with Boy Boy”
  1. Aww! I missed this one. Too cute! Mmmmm, cookies.

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