I let Liam help me make banana bread.
Well, I started to make banana bread and Liam came running across the kitchen hollering, "I help you? I help you make 'nana bed in that - wha- wha- wha- what you call that red ting?"
"My mixer. And yes, you can help."
From that we should take away 2 facts.
1. Liam is in the phase of verbal development when he stutters. And it's cute.
2. I deserve a pat on the back because I just quadrupled the time it's going to take to make banana bread. Maybe pent-tupled.
|But look how happy...|
So I got my softened butter into the mixer and realized I was out of sugar. Since leaving a two-year-old unattended by a mixer and surrounded by baking ingredients is
stupid poor parenting, I unplugged it and moved EVERYTHING else out of his reach.
Because that boy loves to add things to the bowl.
Like picking up the big salt canister and shaking it over the bowl where a batch of cookies are mixing.
I will never again grumble when that little salt chute is hard to open. It's obstinacy saved our cookies.
But I digress.
I cleared the counter, gave some sort of motherly warning/threat/ultimatum about messing with the mixer and scooted down to the garage.
Where I found no more sugar.
Which turned out to be ok, because since Liam couldn't reach any of the baking ingredients, the resourceful boy found crumbs, fuzz and an old, crusty piece of shredded cheddar on the floor which he squished deep into the soft butter.
Obviously the whole making banana bread idea needed to be counted as a loss. I threw away the defiled butter, wrote sugar on the shopping list and looked sadly at my over-ripe bananas.
Now, you could make a case that the moral of this story is that I need to keep a cleaner kitchen floor, but I'm going to choose to take away from it the eternal truth that you can never trust that a two-year-old will not cause trouble.