Ever since you mastered using the step stool to access the counter, I've been letting you help make dinner. You seem to like cooking, and I like involving you in the process, so every night I come up with one task that you can do - stirring a sauce, putting lettuce in a bowl, etc.
For fun tonight, I decided that you could do the whole thing. So - God help us - this is what it looks like when you make a barbecued chicken pizza:
What was exceptionally gross is that you were going back and forth between tasting the pizza sauce and snacking on your strawberry yogurt.
Then, after a wardrobe change for you and a couple of Motrin for Mom, it was time to toss the salad and taste-test the pizza.
But here's where things get really crazy. We had some time to kill while we waited on your dad to finish his project and be ready to eat, so you asked if you could crack an egg. I can't explain how I know that's what you were asking for, except that you've been really obsessed with eggs lately - or "Ech!" as you call them. So I handed you an egg to see what would happen (it's amazing how Motrin can take the edge off), and you cracked it into the bowl. So I handed you a whisk and you whisked the heck out of them.
When the other kids in kindergarten are making mud pies, you'll be making omelettes - now with 20% less shell! Nice work. Now, everybody in the tub!
Love,
Mom
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