Somewhere along the journey of becoming a Mother and then a Stay-At-Home-Mother I got the knack for baking cookies.
How very June Cleaver of me, I know.
But believe me when I say, I make a darn tasty cookie.
And now that my 3 year old is almost 4 he loves to be my little helper.
Mostly he likes to help lick the batter off the mixing thingamajigs (what are those called?) and who am I to take that very important and delicious task away from him?
Last Sunday, my husband spent the whole day with the boys as I attended a dear friend's baby shower.
She's pregnant. With twins.
Let's all say a little prayer for her now.
Upon my arrival home, my 3 year old informs me that Daddy bought them cookies in a tube!
Adrian decided he wanted to 'make' them yesterday afternoon and so I obliged.
Plop, plop, plop. Plop, plop, plop.
While I was plopping them out on the pan, Adrian asked me who the 'small white chef' was on the package. I explained to him it was Pillsbury Doughboy, that he made the dough ahead of time and all we have to do is bake them.
There they went on the cookie sheet and into the oven.
So easy. No mess, no clean up, no chaos, no challenge.
Out they came 10 minutes later and onto a plate with a glass of milk for Adrian and I to dip the warm cookies into.
He dips and takes a bite, "Mmmmmm. The Pillsfairy Doughboy makes the be-"
He looks over at me, quickly. I'm looking at him. Waiting.
"Mummaa-a? You make the best cookies ever. And the Pillsfairy Doughboy makes the second best cookies ever."
"Thank you sweetie."
And we continued to munch in contented silence.
That darling boy of mine? He is one fast learner.