Sunday, August 8, 2010

Cookie monsters

A couple of weeks ago, the kids decided they wanted cookies. I wasn't feeling very cookie-ish (mostly because I'd already promised the kids I'd make jalapeno poppers for dinner that night), so I told them that if they wanted cookies, they could make them.

M1 LOVES to cook. He broke out his cookbook, found a recipe for oatmeal-raisin cookies, and started piling all the ingredients and supplies together. M2 really did want to help, no matter what her look says here.

And no, she doesn't have a mullet. She had been sweating during her rest time and has a habit of shoving everything - snot, spit, sweat, whatever - straight up. So she'd done that and her hair had stuck.

Yes, I did wash it later that day.

Anyway, even after we realized we didn't have enough raisins for cookies but did have enough raisins for a snack-me-over while the cookies were baking and substituted chocolate chips for the raisins in the cookies, the kids did fantastic. M1 read the recipe and measured.

M2 dumped the ingredients into the bowl and stirred until she deemed it was ready (and then M1 would take over and stir a little more, just because he's the big brother and is a bit of a perfectionist about cooking).

They asked for help making the first cookie, to make sure that they would all be the right size, and then they scooped the cookies onto their own cookie sheet.

No squabbling at all!
They - and I - were very proud of their cookies. They had a few that day and then took the rest to the splash pad the next day to share with friends.

After they finished the cookies, they decided they wanted to make muffin-tin meatloaves for dinner and kicked me out of the kitchen altogether. It was rather heartbreaking because I wanted to be in there to take photos of this independent process unfolding, but I was on strict orders to stay out unless summoned. Which I wasn't, until it was time to put the mealoaves into the oven. They tasted great!

It was lovely to see the children not only working together but also doing something so well.

I told Oz later that night, "You know, they could totally be those kids who survive on their own after their parents disappear. At least till the food ran out."

And, scary as that thought is since they're only 7 and 5, he had to agree.

1 comment:

Mom on the Verge said...

That's WONDERFUL! The independence is astonishing... So jealous... ;)