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Bare Baking

If it matters, he washed his hands…then ooched up onto the counter.  He carefully emptied each quarter cup of sugar as I steadied his hand.  And he chattered about what a good helper he was.  With each crack of an egg, his voice grew in intensity as he counted, one… Two…THREE!  Eggs had never been more exciting.  Um…never.  But then I handed him the butter (think Christmas here), and one little boy with his knees curled beneath him deftly tore the wrapper off the cube and dug in.  With his teeth.  Which would have been a good time to pull out a new butter or scrap the whole cookie making.  Only I quickly reasoned that we were down just one bite and threw the thing in.  Followed by the vanilla, the oats and a little boy’s sampling spoon, which made its way there on its own.  

The chocolate chips I guarded with my shoulder, only my technique was rusty.  And he was still three.  So his fingers acted alone, and six chips in he asked, “May I have this chocolate chip?”  And I gasped, “how many have you eaten?”  Only he was still naked…and my ability to reason with bare buns in the air was near nil…so we did what made sense.  We ate half a dozen.  One for him and five for me.  And we laughed because, uh, that was the chocolate talking.  Then we got back to them cookies.  Just my birthday suit baker and me.

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No Responses to “Bare Baking”

  1. Sarah says:

    Are they gluten free oats? If so did you save a cookie for me naked baker?

  2. The Man says:

    I don’t believe I saw a single cookie from that ‘outing’

  3. devers2u says:

    love the images this piece offers. well done. good laugh! thx.

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