my sweet sweet babies

Our current church schedule along with the developmental stages of the children have recently come together to reintroduce to me the wonder known as “The Sunday Afternoon Nap.” It is a joy, that nap.

 Today as I drifted slowly back to consciousness at the conclusion of my delicious napping I heard thumping in the kitchen. I went to investigate and was met with disappointed groans. “Oh Mama, we were making a surprise for you!” I put on my best surprised happy face as I surveyed the scene. Water running into an already brimful sink, Enz atop the step stool gingerly running a soapy brush over a sopping wet jug. Ziz was beside him at this point, I guessed she was on rinse duty. I was wrong though.

 “Enzo’s washing the dishes and I’m making COOKIES!” Zizza told me. “Whaaa?” came my eloquent response as I fought hard to maintain that surprised happy face. Sure enough, the old red and white cook book was open to chocolate chip cookies. A peek into the bowl of the mixer showed she’d already measured out butter and shortening. I double checked the recipe she was using, it called for 1/2 cup of each. Her measurements looked pretty accurate. I decided to let the cookie situation play out, and directed my attention to Enzo, only intervening with Zizza’s project when she directly asked for help.

A closer inspection of the sink revealed hunks of shortening floating in what was supposed to be wash water. There were some things in the drain board I’d washed earlier and I double timed to put those away before Enzo could finish brushing that jug. A few shortening bathed dishes piled on top of their clean fellows in the drain board was the last thing my kitchen needed. 

Once that danger had passed I drained the sink and refilled it for him with (mostly) shorting free water. Enz moved on and began brushing a spatula and soon there was a pile of shortening streaked dishes glistening greasily in the drain board. Meanwhile, Ziz was ready to start scooping her cookies.

 Aside from one instance of confusion between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, the cookies had been mixed without a hitch. The measuring confusion occurred in the matter of the vanilla, and we all know (don’t we?) that cookies are all the better for a little extra vanilla, so all was well.

“At least we surprised Pop,” Zizza later consoled herself and Enzo. “Oh, girl” I assured her.  “You surprised me too. I was surprised in the middle of your project instead of the end, but I was surprised all right.”

When was the last time you were surprised?  

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