Snap, Cackle, Pop!

Charlotte was staring intently at my hand, face up real close, eyes wide, as I demonstrated how to do a finger-snap.  But try as she might, she couldn’t generate the smallest sound.

 

Being a parent makes you intensely conscious of automatic actions you have long ceased thinking through – like tying your shoes and snapping your fingers.  For instance, under Charlotte’s watchful eyes, I realized that I snap my fingers differently on each hand.  On my right hand, I snap by pressing my thumb and ring finger together; while on my left, I snap my thumb and middle finger together.  Go figure.

 

Anyway, the reason for the sudden interest in finger-snapping was a cd we had recently gotten from the library.  (Karen and the kids had discovered the artist, Jim Gill, at a library story time.) Charlotte, after watching Karen and I do a little finger snapping, decided she wanted in on the fun.

 

The cd, Jim Gill Makes it Noisy in Boise, Idaho, has some real finger-snapping tunes on it, including “Stick to the Glue (My Darling)” and “Oh Hey Oh Hi Hello.”  It’s a great cd.  Another good one is Jim Gill Sings the Sneezing Song and Other Contagious Tunes.  In fact, in anyone’s looking to get us a gift for no special reason, a Jim Gill cd is a good way to go.  All I’m saying is, you know my size, so to speak.

 

Luke must have been thinking about the finger snapping as well because, when he woke up, he had finger-snapping on the brain.  Lying in our bed, trying to get him to cuddle for a few extra cozy minutes under the blanket, we were wondering why he was rubbing his fingers against his thumb.  It almost looked like he was trying to start a fire.  But it soon dawned on us.

 

After his efforts proved futile, he stood up, walked all over us, then dove on top of Karen and announced to her, “I jumped on you!”  (No kidding, Luke.)

 

Kids are great, especially in the morning.

 

In other news, I have a big nose, as Charlotte likes to point out to me.  At first, I wasn’t sure if she meant a big nose relative to her’s and Luke’s, or just plain big (I do have one large proboscis.)  I believe it’s relative to a child’s because she’s also told Karen she has a big nose, and that she and Luke have small noses.  That’ll teach us to show them the old “got your nose” bit (which they love.) 

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

When I’m 64…

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I’m sixty-four?-The Beatles

 

Today, in blog posts, I turned 64.  That’s right, this is the 64^th serving of ‘mac & cheese.’  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading them as much as I’ve enjoyed serving them. 

 

It’s been a lot of fun, a great creative outlet, and a (hopefully) entertaining way to chronicle and share the adventures of the Putney family.  I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for reading this blog and also to apologize for all the overcooked, and undercooked, servings, although I hope you agree that there have been far more good than bad.

 

This being the 64^th serving, I’ve made this into a multimedia ‘mac & cheese.’  I’ve posted a few somewhat relevant video clips at the end, including When I’m 64, that I hope you enjoy.

 

When I’m 64 was actually my initial choice for our wedding song.  But we eventually decided on Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You (You’re Just Too Good to be True), by Frankie Valli (Lauren Hill also performed this song).  Great song, appropriate sentiment, and fun to dance to. 

 

Speaking of my wedding, I also liked our cake cutting song, Ice Cream, by Sarah McLachlan.  First verse: Your love is better than ice cream, Better than anything else I’ve ever tried… Second verse: Your love is better than chocolate, Better than anything else I’ve ever tried…  How fitting is that, especially given how much Karen and I like ice cream and chocolate? 

 

But back to the Beatles motif. 

 

When Karen and the kids left for story time at the library this morning, I asked them to pick me up a new book to read, if they saw anything interesting.

 

They came back with two selections.  Karen had picked John Lennon, The Life, by Philip Norman (because I’ve been on a non-fiction kick of late, including lots of biographies – I just finished The Big Bam, a Babe Ruth biography, by Leigh Montville.)

 

Apparently, when Karen picked out that book, Charlotte informed her that it was too long (over 800 pages), and proceeded to the mystery section, where she picked out Skeleton Lake, a Nik Kane Alaska Mystery, by Mike Doogan (which, and whom, I’ve never heard of.)

 

I’m not exactly sure what those selections say about me or about what my wife and daughter think about me.

 

Needless to say, I’ll read both books.

                                                            

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

 

When I’m 64

 

Ice Cream Live

Now what’s my (stage) name…

Over the weekend, we attended a birthday party that featured a professional magician.  He was great.  His name  – Mr. Magic.

 

Simple, appropriate, yet rather generic. 

 

It got me thinking.  If I was a magician, what would my magician name be?  I’ve come up with a couple of possibilities, but none very good or satisfying:

Agent M. (International Man of Mystery)

Major Magic (“Reporting for duty.  My mission: To amaze and bewilder”)

The Man Behind (or in front of) the Curtain

Mr. A. B. Cadabra (I kind of stole this one from Sesame Street’s Abby Cadabby)

Dr. Magic, Ph.D (I know, I know, the “Dr.” and the “PhD” are redundant)

And the wildly inappropriat (particularly for a child magician):

Chuck N. Amazing!

 

Is there a formula for this type of thing (like there is for adult entertainment/porn star name)?  Something like the name of your first pet and the street you lived on as a child?  (For the record, mine is “Jake Royal”  – emphasis on the “al” in “royal,” drawing it out to get the desired effect.) 

 

I already have a rock star name, which I discovered somewhat by accident.  About four years ago, Karen and I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on our way to a wedding in Indiana.  Turns out it was either cheaper or the same cost to get a membership as to get tickets for two for a single day.  But, when I filled out the membership form, I used my standard sloppy handwriting, which was misread by whoever input the data. 

 

So when I was mailed my membership card, it said “Chuck Purney” rather than “Chuck Putney.”  I was extremely disappointed, until I realized that I had unwittingly stumbled upon my rock star name.  What serendipity!  Every time I got a mailing from the Rock and Hall of Fame, it came to Chuck Purney.  I enjoyed it so much, whenever I signed up for a musical-related mailing list, I used (as you have probably guessed) my rock star name: Chuck Purney.

 

On a somewhat similar note, I’ve also given some thought to my autobiography.  Some potential titles:

            Chuck Putney, American Dreamer

            Chuck Purney, American Rock Star

            “Some People Pursue Happiness, I CREATE It”- The Life and Times of Chuck Putney

That last one is based on an incredibly appropriate (at least I think so) Chinese fortune cookie I received once.

 

Anyway, back to my hypothetical search for my magician name.  Having failed to come up with an adequate stage sobriquet, I turned my attention to devising a name for my hypothetical show.

Dad’s ‘Magic’ and Cheese (I would mix in really cheesy jokes, and also reference my enthralling blog)

Where the ‘Magic’ Things Are

Let the ‘Magic’ Rumpus Start (if you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m a huge fan of Where the Wild Things Are)

Pay Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain

Also, the wildly inappropriate (particularly for a child magician):

            How the ‘Chuck’ Did He Do That?! and

            Where the ‘Chuck’ Did That Go!?

 

I think it would be incredibly fun to be a child entertainer.  Not necessarily a magician but maybe a storyteller or an American version of Raffi.  How could you not look forward to work if it involved a guitar, music, telling jokes, applause (I’m assuming) and the adulation of children (which I’m also assuming)?

 

I always felt I would make a great song and dance man, especially for an audience of children, were it not for my pitch dyslexia, my inability to play the guitar, and the fact that people find my singing voice, well, let’s just say, less than appealing.

 

While I lack the skill set for such a career, maybe Charlotte or Luke will be so inclined and gifted.  I’ll have to start thinking about their stage names.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘magic & cheese.’

Ahhhs, Ummms, and Ooohs…

A couple of weeks ago, Charlotte came running into my office, proclaiming proudly, “Dad, Dad, Luke’s doing ‘Ah-booms’ down the stairs!  I showed him how, and now he’s doing it on his own!”

 

In the Putney house, ‘Ah-booms’ consist of going down the stairs on your bottom, step by step.  Sitting at the top of the stairs, one of us will hold one of the kids on our laps and, as we prepare to leave one step for the next, we begin a drawn out, “ahhhhhhhhh” that culminates with a “boom!” once we hit the next step.

 

The kids love it.  Apparently, Charlotte considers ‘ah-booms’ an important developmental milestone for her little brother.  She couldn’t have been prouder of her brother (and of herself since she played such an important role in helping him develop this invaluable skill.)

 

Now, Luke will plant himself on his bottom right in front of the door to the rumpus room stairs, the soles of his feet pressed up against the door, and saying, “ah-boom…. ah-boom…. ah-boom…”, partly because he wants to go downstairs and partly because he enjoys ‘ah-booming’.

 

‘Ah-boom’ is one of the funny new expressions he started using as gains more and more verbal dexterity.  In addition to words (and approximations of words), Luke has also picked up some verbal tics along the way. 

 

One of his more recent is the use of “ummmmmmmm” in response to questions, as if he’s pondering a difficult paradox or struggling to find the right word.  Except that he seems to view it as a response in itself.  He’ll start “ummmmmmmmm”ing and we’ll wait, expecting something to follow.  But we wait in vain.

 

“Luke, do you want your orange juice or your milk?”

“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…” (eventually trailing off without any answer forthcoming.)

 

“Luke, what do you have fun doing today?”

“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.” (Apparently, he had fun avoiding his parents’ questions with meaningless responses.)

 

 

He also continues to use his old standby, “Ooh…”

 

When Luke and I went grocery shopping earlier this week, we were waiting a particularly long time at the deli counter, which just happened to be right by the self-serve baked good section.  I grabbed a donut, figuring it would make a good snack for Luke on the car ride home.  As we waited for what seemed like an interminably long time, Luke would occasionally look longingly at the donut and plead, “Donut, please?”

 

I eventually gave in, broke it into a couple of pieces and doled them out to him.  Each (and every) time I went to hand him a piece, his eyes would go wide and a huge smile would envelop his face, followed by a dramatic “oooooooooh!”  (Charlotte and Luke LOVE donuts.)

 

We were standing by one lady, waiting for her sliced colby jack cheese, who was a particularly enthusiastic spectator to what had become the Luke show (“now performing, at the deli counter… LUKE!”)

 

A couple of older ladies were also quite taken with him.  We had been bumping into them throughout the store, and he was really working it (actually, he was just being his usual adorable self.)  When one of them jokingly asked for a bite of his donut, he extended his donut without even hesitating.  Given his love for donuts, I was pretty surprised, and very proud.

 

On a related note, Dunkin’ Donuts is having ‘Create Dunkin’s Next Donut’ contest.  Pretty fun.  You can mix and match shapes, dough, fillings, and toppings.  Plus, you have to come up with a clever name and backstory.  I’d share some of my ideas but hey, I could really use the $12,000 grand prize, not to mention the fame and adulation.  I’ll post some of my ideas post-contest.

 

I hope you enjoyed today serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Sticks and Stones (and Swings)

It’s official – spring has arrived.  Or almost arrived, seeing as there’s some disagreement as whether the vernal equinox falls on the 20^th or 21^st (and in some years the 19^th).

 

Regardless, spring has begun in spirit if not fact.  We’re spending an increasing amount of time outside, we’re transitioning to lighter jackets and shedding hats and gloves (though Luke is fighting this), and we’re enjoying the later sunrise and sunset.  In addition, buds are popping out of the ground and we’re anxiously watching the growth of our raspberries bushes, which are in year two after having been transplanted from my ancestral home.

 

We’ve also begun spring cleanup.

 

This year the task will be particularly arduous due to the ravages of the ice storm.

 

The backyard is covered with varying sizes of sticks and branches, in addition to the huge piles in the front yard awaiting pickup.

 

I brought in my dad’s old chainsaw yesterday for a tune-up (hasn’t been run in a couple of years.)  If you are terrified by the thought of me with a chainsaw, you are definitely not alone.  Me, my limbs, and, well, my entire being, share your concerns.  I’ve had my share of freak accidents, including a golf cart accident that resulted in an ambulance ride, emergency surgery, and months of rehab (but that’s a whole other story.)

 

We brought our swing set back online the other day, re-attaching the swings and rings.  When we put it in last year, we had set aside a rock that we had removed from the ground with the intention of painting something on it.  Maybe a date, the kids’ names, and potentially the name of the swing set, which we have not yet decided upon.  I’m thinking of something like the following:

 

Welcome to

‘Where the Wild Swings Are’

or

‘Ever Ever Land’

or

insert your suggestion here

 

Established June 2008

Charlotte and Luke Putney

 

 

One of our immediate projects for this spring is to start composting.  In addition to reducing our trash output and providing useful compost for plantings, it will also be an interesting learning experience (for the kids as well as us.)

 

And then we’ll turn our attention inside.  We’re looking forward to opening the windows, airing out the house, and beginning interior spring cleaning in earnest.

 

I’m very excited to get the Disco-Garage back online.  We need to sweep out the garage, rearrange and reorganize the shelves and our ‘stuff’ – shovels and non-functioning snow blower to the back/corner; bikes, bike trailer, and lawnmower to the front.

 

In terms of the disco elements, one of the pin light bulbs needs to be replaced, I’d like to switch up the gel colors on the lights to mix things up a bit, and there’s the minor matter of fixing the small hole in the ceiling, courtesy of an ice storm tree limb. 

 

There’s nothing quite like a dual affliction of Spring Fever and Saturday Night Fever, creating a downright disco inferno.

 

We’re looking to potentially host a spring open house for neighbors and friends.  In addition to connecting or reconnecting with neighbors (and getting to know them better), it’ll also provide a target date by which to get all of the above tasks completed

 

Anyway, happy spring!

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Playing Games…

It’s official.  I’m on the election ballot as a candidate for my town’s recreation commission. (I’m already on the cable committee, but I didn’t have to run for that.  The committee was a person short, so I volunteered and was quickly appointed.)

 

This is the first time I’ve run for anything since band president in college.  (In that case, my ‘platform’ consisted of “See Chuck” accompanied by a standing stick figure with a bass drum, followed by another stick figure with a bass drum running and the caption, “See Chuck run for band president.”  Both stick figures were adorned with my signature purple/lilac bandana.)  I was also elected to student council in high school as an assistant home room rep.  If memory serves correctly, I was the one-person liturgy committee and I was also on the prom committee, which was somewhat ironic.

 

Anyway, I’m currently running unopposed but have decided that campaign slogans were necessary anyway, so here they are:

 

            Chuck Putney for Recreation Commission

                        He knows how to recreate!

                        He knows how to play games!

                        He’ll do the heaving lifting!

 

And of course, my old standby, which is particularly applicable for this position:

            See Chuck.  See Chuck run for Recreation Commission.

 

Speaking of playing games, we’ve begun introducing the kids to some board and card games.  Charlotte’s quite good at Memory.  Although she often gets overly anxious.  If she’s already flipped two cards but knows where the match for the second card is, she’ll immediately flip a third card to make the match. 

 

She also enjoys “Go Fish” and Old Maid.  Whenever she gets the Old Maid, she gets a funny little smile on her face, shows me the card, and sheepishly states, “the Old Maid.”  It’s priceless.

 

We’ve also played Connect Four, but she doesn’t seem to understand or want to understand the rules.  She just enjoys dropping the pieces in the grid.  And she really enjoys opening the latch at the end of the game so all the pieces tumble out.

 

Luke isn’t quite focused or patient enough to play card or board games yet.  We’ve tried to play Candy Land but he prefers to knock the pieces down or walk away with them (driving his sister crazy) rather than moving them around the board in an organized fashion.  It’ll be some time  he’s ready to scale Gum Drop Mountain again.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (with a side of corn beef and cabbage – Happy St. Patrick’s Day!)

Down the up staircase…

Today marked a milestone.  Or perhaps I should I say a stepping stone.

 

For the first time, Charlotte got out of bed in the morning and walked downstairs, on her own, without Karen or I there to get her out of bed.

 

For some reason, until today, she simply didn’t get out of bed and come downstairs on her own.  Once, about a month or two ago, she did meet me at her door.  But before that, she wouldn’t even get out of bed on her own when she woke up. 

 

We told her she could – that we didn’t have to be in the room for her to get up. 

 

But, upon waking up, rather than getting out of bed, she would just start calling.  “Mom…… Dad….” And, depending on her mood and disposition, things would sometimes intensify if we didn’t answer her calls quickly enough, even progressing to yelling and crying (which could get very frustrating, particularly when she woke up her little brother, who doesn’t sleep in very often.)

 

But apparently, that ended today.  Karen was in the bathroom with Luke and I was still in bed when we heard small footsteps coming down the stairs.  She walked into the bathroom and proudly announced, “Mom, I got up my own.”

 

I don’t think it will happen anytime soon, but I dread her walking downstairs in the middle of the night, coming to our room for whatever reason, and scaring the heck out of me.  I’m not a middle of the night person after I’ve fallen asleep (once I’m asleep, I like to stay asleep.)

 

In many ways, it seems like such a small thing.  But the small things do add up.  She can now get dressed on her own, go to the bathroom on her own, brush her teeth on her own, and do so many other things she once relied on me or her mother to do. 

 

Next thing we know, she’ll be asking to sleep over at a friend’s house, then borrow the car (or worse, get her own), then backpack across Europe, and then (gasp), horror of horrors, she won’t even be asking for permission any more: she’ll be starting her own political party or even her own religion.

 

But until then (and probably even long after), she’s still my little girl.  At least Luke can’t get out of his crib (yet).

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Pie/Pi Day

Pie Day is almost upon us.

 

Alright, technically it’s “pi”, the mathematic constant used to determine the diameter and/or circumference of a circle: 3.14159etc.

 

Pi day is celebrated on March 14 (3/14).  Note: I didn’t say it was widely celebrated, but it is celebrated by the Putneys.  Some hard core math fans even celebrate Pi Second 1:59:26 p.m., (3.1415926).

 

Pie Day is an annual event at the Putney Home.  It is also Albert Einstein’s birthday and, drum roll please, my half birthday.  (I suppose everything is relative.)  Talk about a lucky family: my half birthday is pie day and Charlotte’s half birthday is Christmas.  Which one of us is the more fortunate?  I’ll let you decide.

 

Pie Day is a truly glorious day.  We celebrate by getting pizza and having pie (or several pies).  This year, I’m planning on making banana cream, pecan, and blueberry, though Karen is asking me to scale back.  But I mean, come on, how many times does my half birthday come around?

 

Charlotte’s very excited.  Focusing on the birthday part, she’s asked several times if we’re going to have cake.  “No, Charlotte,” I explain, “it’s pie day, not cake day.”

 

As a side note: several years ago, we obtained a standing, life size, cardboard cutout of, that’s right, Albert Einstein.  The Museum of Science in Boston was raffling it off at the end of an Einstein exhibit, and I was the lucky winner.  Or I suppose it was fate.  After all, we do share a (half) birthday.

 

Albert has become a cherished part of our family.  We often dress him up for events – a 70’s shirt for our disco party (he danced in the Disco-Garage), college gear for my 10-year reunion, a Santa hat for Christmas – you get the idea.  Sometimes, he even plays ‘Get Me’ with us.  And on birthdays, we add a voice/dialogue bubble (like in comics) that wishes the birthday boy or girl a happy birthday.  Great fun. 

 

Also, we’re preparing to open Einstein’s Underground Gallery of Children’s Art (in our basement/rumpus room.)  Albert will be the host and curator.  Happy birthday, big guy.  Have some pie on me.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (with a side of pie.)

The Best Medicine

One of my nieces recently turned one, and she has a wonderful staccato laugh.  A child’s laugh is a beautiful thing to hear – pure, unadulterated joy. 

 

I first heard it at her birthday party as she played catch with Charlotte and Luke (who adore her.)  Sitting in her new birthday chair, she would throw her ball, and Luke and Charlotte would take turns (for the most part)  retrieving it and bringing it back to her.  She would greet them with her laugh.  Several days later, she gave an encore performance while playing in our yard, being pulled uphill in her sled as she tipped back, gleeful.

 

If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then the laugh is something equally important and revealing – maybe a skylight, or a door, or a hole in the wall, or to switch metaphors, maybe a soundtrack to the soul.  Who knows for sure, but it definitely reveals something genuine and important – it’s how a person reacts when they truly enjoy something, often when they’re surprised by something they like (unless it’s a fake laugh, which is far different, though entertaining in its own right.)

 

Hearing my niece’s laugh reminded me of when Charlotte first started laughing.  I would come home from work (during the six months after she was born that I actually had to go to work and leave the house daily) and be greeted by her wonderful laugh, often after I did something silly.  Her laugh was unique and difficult to describe.  I was told by some that she laughed like me.  Needless to say, I have an awkward, though exuberant, laugh. 

 

At first I was concerned for my daughter, as my laugh had been the object of some derision during my earlier days.  But throughout my life, I have had far more people comment that they love my laugh (usually by people who have unique laughs themselves) than otherwise.  I suppose having an awkward laugh is not something you’re conscious of (until someone points it out) because you’re far to busy enjoying the cause of the laugh.

 

I’m just glad that, like me, my kids truly love to laugh.

 

Crack in the Door

As a further addendum to this and the knock, knock post, Luke has started playing games with my office door.  The other day, I must have left it open a crack.  Sitting at my desk, I looked up and saw a little hand poke through the opening, following by a small, gleeful face being pushed up against the crack as far as it could go.

 

I immediately started laughing, which he took (rightly so) as permission to enter, marching in with a huge smile on his face, clearly proud of himself.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Knock, Knock…

When we sat down for dinner the other night, Charlotte immediately said, “Dad, say ‘knock, knock’.”

 

I’m not sure how she got turned on to ‘knock, knock’ jokes, but being a fan of jokes, I was anxious to open the door (figuratively speaking).

 

I couldn’t really remember any good knock, knock jokes, except for the old reliable “banana… banana… banana… orange you glad I didn’t say banana.”

 

It quickly became clear that she didn’t completely understand the concept. 

 

Me: Knock, knock.

Charlotte: Who’s there?

Me: Banana.

Charlotte: Hello, Banana, come on in.  (Followed by the exaggerated laugh she often does when she knows something is supposed to be funny but doesn’t quite get it.)

 

Eventually, we got through the entire joke, culminating with “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana,” followed by Charlotte’s exaggerated laugh.

 

Then, as is usually the case, she wanted to reverse roles:

Charlotte: Knock, knock.

Me: Who there’s?

Charlotte: Banana.

Me: Banana who?

Charlotte: Banana Charlotte Putney (followed by her exaggerated laugh and my quite genuine one.)

 

Another one of her responses when I “misrepresented” myself at her “door”: “No, dad, you’re ‘Chuck.’”

 

Luke also seems to be a fan of knock, knock jokes, or at least saying “knock, knock” (which he says expectantly with an adorably silly grin on his face.)

 

Both of my kids seem to have a great sense of humor (how could they not?), although clearly still in the incipient stages.  Early indications are that both will have quirky senses of humor (all the better.)

 

Regardless, both kids enjoy laughing and jokes (regardless of whether or not they get them), which is great for their father’s ego.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Fiddlesticks

When my parents came over shortly after Valentine’s Day, they brought a fair amount of candy for the kids, even though we don’t let the kids eat candy very often.  But hey, they’re grandparents.

 

Anyway, a week or two ago, after the kids’ bedtime, I ate one of the items, a chocolate covered pretzel stick.  I figured the kids wouldn’t make it through all the candy before it went bad anyway, so I was doing them a favor.  (I’m a giver.)  I also figured that they wouldn’t even remember what candy my parents brought.

 

It was so good, that I couldn’t resist eating the second and final one the next night.  I checked with Karen to assuage my conscience, and she said it was fine (she’s given up chocolate for Lent, or else she might have called dibs.)

 

Fast forward to two nights ago, when I mentioned that we could have one of the treats from Grandpa and Sitto (Arabic word for grandmother) after dinner.

 

Charlotte immediately said, “Mom, I’ll share my chocolate pretzel with you.”

 

I winced as Karen shot me a look, although I was impressed that 1) Charlotte remembered she had a chocolate covered pretzel (it must have made an impression) and 2) she was willing to share it (although not with me – what’s up with that?).

 

I felt like a terrible father.  I gradually worked up the courage to confess, telling her, “Charlotte, I’m sorry, I ate your chocolate pretzel the other night.”  She seemed fine with it, and I assured her I’d get her another one. 

 

Unfortunately for me, the next morning, she did ask Karen, “Why did Dad eat my pretzel?” Ugh.  The sins of the father.

 

Thankfully, when I called my parents, my mom informed me she had two more that she would bring this weekend.

 

Thank God for grandparents.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac and cheese.’

The Joy of Stirring

“Luke, don’t crack the egg yet!”

 

“Charlotte, keep the flour in the bowl!”

 

“Luke, take your hand out of the batter!”

 

“Charlotte, don’t dump that in yet!”

 

“Luke, don’t lick that!”

 

Cooking with toddlers can be described in various ways: brave… reckless… adventuresome… bad parenting… insane… chaotic…  But no matter how else you choose to describe it, it’s always messy and it’s always fun (once you accept the messy part.)

 

Charlotte and Luke love baking.  It’s one of their favorite activities.  Decked out in their aprons and chef hats, holding their spoons, and covered in batter, flour, and/or eggs, they couldn’t be happier.

 

We make a variety of things: muffins (usually pumpkin), banana bread, brownies, pancakes, waffles, pizza… 

 

They both love to taste test the product throughout the cooking process.  Regardless of how it actually tastes at a particular stage, they always act as if it’s delicious, “Yuuuummmmm….”  They love to ‘clean up’ after we’re done mixing (especially when we make whipped cream), licking any available spoons and bowls.

 

Luke loves to crack eggs (though not always in the bowl.)  They both love to dump ingredients (again, not always in the bowl.)

 

They each have their own mini-roller when we make pizza.  They help to roll out the dough, spread the sauce and add the additional toppings (although half of the topping supply usually doesn’t make it onto the pizza, and the larger toppings are occasionally missing a bite.)  Often, when we’re out of toppings, Luke will try to start taking them off the pizza.

 

It’s always fun to see someone else’s reaction when they first witness the kids cooking.  Over the weekend, Aunt Jen was visiting and was excited to bake with her niece and nephew.  But I don’t think she was quite ready for it.  She kept jumping forward to prevent an inevitable mess.  Her face was aghast when Charlotte almost took a bite out of something before adding it to the mix. 

 

As they were vigorously stirring the flour, getting a fair amount airborne, Aunt Jen questioned the need to stir it since the flour was the only ingredient in the bowl.  I explained that it wasn’t about a need for stirring, it was about the joy of stirring.

 

I suppose there’s no better way to describe cooking with the kids: the joy of stirring.

 

I have to admit, I was a little late to the table on realizing the joy of stirring.  Were it not for Karen’s patience in the face of spilt milk, broken eggs on the floor (and on the kids), and arguments over who gets to stir, I would have never braved the inevitable chaos, mess, and cleanup of baking with the kids on my own.  While I would have avoided much aggravation, I would have missed out on the immense pleasure of the experience, culminating with the joyful looks on their faces as we bite into the finished product and ask, “Who made this?”  They each gleefully throw a hand in the air and yell, “MEEEEEEEEE!”

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’