A few days ago, my 8 years old niece asked if I could bake cookies for her birthday to bring to school. Now, cookies are not my forte. Neither are cupcakes. Or muffins. I just cannot stand the repetitive process of it all. I’m very patient but not when it comes to this. I like to think of myself as a free soul and I cannot do the same thing repeatedly. I have the utmost respect for people who do. I don’t know how you do it but my hat’s off to you.

Musing of a home baker - A few days ago, my 8 years old niece asked if I could bake cookies for her birthday to bring to school. Now, cookies are not my forte. Neither are cupcakes. Or muffins. I just cannot stand the repetitive process of it all. I'm very patient but not when it comes to this. I like to think of myself as a free soul and I cannot do the same thing repeatedly. I have the utmost respect for people who do. I don’t know how you do it but my hat's off to you.

Musing of a home baker - A few days ago, my 8 years old niece asked if I could bake cookies for her birthday to bring to school. Now, cookies are not my forte. Neither are cupcakes. Or muffins. I just cannot stand the repetitive process of it all. I'm very patient but not when it comes to this. I like to think of myself as a free soul and I cannot do the same thing repeatedly. I have the utmost respect for people who do. I don’t know how you do it but my hat's off to you.

So back to my niece’s request. I would like to say that she pleadingly begged me with her big brown eyes to make cookies for her but truth is, she didn’t beg me. Instead she sat on my lap and said, “You’re so beautiful. I want to be like you when I grow up”. And I had tears in my eyes from her saying this to me. And before I know what was happening, I was agreeing to making the cookies for her. That night, as I laid in bed, I told myself “You dumb dumb, that little minx played you for a fool!” Haha. I refused to think that a little girl had played with my emotions but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed true.

Oh well.. The sugar had already been spilled. Sooooo.. Baking cookies it it!

So the day before she was supposed to take the cookies, she came over to help me bake the cookies which again is a NO NO for me. I bake alone. This time she pleaded with me with her brown eyes and I gave in. So there we were mixing the butter and sugar and chatting away. Her mum also joined us in the kitchen, fuelling me with family gossip. I was using my Kitchen Aid to ease the process of mixing. Little one asked if she could put in the flour, I said sure. Three cups of flour into the mixing bowl.

I guess you can tell what happened next. I realized too late that I had forgotten to switch the mixer to low speed. Little one dumped in the flour and her hand automatically reached for the switch to turn on the mixer. And me rushing towards the mixer at the same time shouting NOOOOOOO. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I reached the mixer just as she flicked the switch and that was it. Total white out. All three of us were covered in flour. My entire kitchen looked like the aftermath of a scary apocalyptic movie. For a brief moment no one said anything. I didn’t know how to move. The flour was everywhere. In my nose, in my ears, in my mouth, in my hair. On the floor, on the cabinets, on the counter. 3 cups of flour. EVERYWHERE.

So yea… No more cookie baking for me ever again and no more assistance in the kitchen ever again. Emphasis on the latter.

Have a great week everyone!

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