Just Rollin’ With It

In my own home, I am a bit of a control freak.

Actually, scratch that. In my own kitchen, I am a bit of a control freak.

On the rare occasion that my husband cooks (not because he can’t cook or is lazy, but because I enjoy it so much that I hardly ever give him the opportunity), I struggle to stay out of the kitchen. It takes every inch of my willpower to sit in the lounge, to leave him to create as much mess havoc chaos deliciousness as he desires, to bite my tongue and not offer up words of advice unless he asks for them.

Recently I decided to make animal biscuits with Tiny. I made the cookies – cooked them, and cooled them – then invited him to decorate them with me. He excitedly washed his grubby little hands, dragged one of his little chairs to the bench, and watched as I made a beautifully glossy royal icing. I tipped silver cachous into a small ramekin, and opened up shakers of chocolate hail and 100s & 1000s, all the while instructing him not to eat too many sprinkles.

We had a two-man assembly line going. I iced; he sprinkled. I showed him how to gently, gently shake the sprinkles evenly over the biscuit, then watched as he dumped a heap in one place. I was about to launch myself at him, to tell him he was doing it wrong, to show him how to do it my (pretty) way, when I suddenly gave myself an invisible slap across the cheek.

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Motorbike Man and the Police Man were on the lookout for rogue animals, apparently.

I backed off. I let him sprinkle to his heart’s content. I watched as he placed seven cachous “eyes” on the belly of a dog.

He was so proud of them all. So proud. He desperately wanted Daddy to come home so he could show him his handiwork.

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He *may* have sampled a bit of icing. And some sprinkles. Possibly. Can’t be sure.

His biscuits looked beautiful. They weren’t uniform and pretty, as I would have liked, but they were colourful and fun, and they had been made that way by my boy.

And I realised I’d enjoyed letting go, enjoyed letting him have free reign to decorate these cookies the way he wanted them. I’d rolled with it, and it felt freeing, relaxing, a little bit mischievous. Best of all, it felt so good to see how thrilled he was with his work. It was good for us both.

~~~~~~~~~
Linking up with lovely mama Miriam for

BMWB(Have you entered my Strawberry Jam giveaway?)

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5 thoughts on “Just Rollin’ With It

  1. Oh I can understand your frustration at first, I have a ‘right’ way to bake etc but sometimes you just have to let boys be boys – or in my case – husband!

  2. Us grown ups love doing things just right! well done you! its taken me ALOT of practice but i’ve learned how great the reward is and get there a bit more easily these days x

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