Spring set-up at my dad's house goes a little something like this: everyone over the age of 10 helps lift, everyone under the age of 5 plays in the sandbox or pokes at bloated worms, and Ben doesn't stop moving. This was supposed to be the first year where he helped instead of played, but he pouted, stomped his feet, and pleaded to the heavens. We gave him a few meaningless tasks and then unleashed him to the yard. After that, we finished in under an hour.
It was a peanut butter cookie day, where we all needed something sweet and warm to eat. Maya and Max helped me in the kitchen. I would roll the balls of dough, and they would shake them around in bowls of sugar until the cookies were sparkly all over. Then one of them would shout "ready!!" and they'd drop it on the tinfoil. Once the pan put in, the kids watched the oven like its a television screen...for about two minutes, when the fascination became boredom.
They screamed in the next room while I sat with my back against a cupboard and bathed in the warm glow of the oven. I turned out the shrill yells - a survival technique - and listened for the gentle *ting ting ting that would tell me my nap was over. My favorite part of taking anything out of the oven is the smell that clouds the kitchen. The kids came running. They hopped up and down, as if the breeze they created would cool their treats down faster. Then each of them had a chewy cookie in hand. Peace.
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