Lean in close, dear reader. I’m going to tell you a secret.
Are you listening? Okay, here it is.
Sometimes, I don’t really like cooking with my kids.
I know, you’re shocked, right? Yeah, I put up a good front. I mean, sometimes I DO like cooking with them. When I’m rested, and I can work with one kid at a time, and we have lots of time, it’s enjoyable to cook with my kids. The truth is, though, sometimes when I’m tired and stressed and working under a deadline, and especially when my food allergies are acting up, I really just want my kids to leave me the heck alone in the kitchen.
So it was on Friday. I was trying to prepare something for the school bake sale the next day. My kids had the day off from school, and the younger two were convinced the best way to pass the time was to get underfoot and “help” Mom with all that baking. After all, I’ve spent the past several years convincing all my kids they are fabulous cooks, and that any cook would be delighted to have such helpful helpers in their kitchen. Between you and me, they really are good cooks, all of them. But sometimes I exaggerate their helpfulness just a mite. You see, it’s all part of my PLAN. The PLAN is that I build up their skills and confidence now, so that one day I will be able to loll about on the sofa while my children prepare dinner for me. I also tell my husband he’s good at scrubbing pots and pans. That’s part of the PLAN too. I lie, is what I’m saying here. I am a lying-liar-pants-on-fire mom and wife. But it’s totally justified in this case, right? Oh, stop giving me that look. You’re just jealous because you don’t have a fabulous PLAN like I do.
It would be counter-productive to the PLAN to tell my children to go away and leave me alone while I’m churning out cookies and cupcakes for the school bake sale. But seriously. It was too early in the day to take my patience medicine. Too cold and freezing-rainy to chase children outside. What to do, what to do?
Never fear, my dears. Genius Mom always has a solution, and it does not always involve drinking before noon. I pulled a bag of confiscated Halloween candy out of the freezer. While I measured and mixed and stirred, the younger kids opened teeny-tiny boxes of candy-coated chocolate and emptied the candies into a bowl. Then they carefully arranged candies on top of cookie dough rounds to make giant cookies, and perched the leftovers on frosted cupcakes.
It kept them busy for minutes at a time. Maybe thirty minutes, which if you round up is almost the same as an hour. It kept them happy, and it got rid of some chocolate which had been making rather a nuisance of itself trying to jump from the freezer to my hips by way of my mouth. And I didn’t sabotage the PLAN by telling my children the truth, which is that at that point in time I would have rather cut my own arm off with a plastic TSA-approved knife than have them help me make cookies.
Don’t hate me because I’m Genius.