L has taken to the culinary arts and she seems to be gravitating toward the morning specialties. Last weekend she decided that the family was going to have eggs for breakfast.
With minimal help from Mommy (probably should have been more, from the looks of the kitchen), L cracked, mixed and scrambled her own mini-meal. Alas, there turned out to be only enough for her and a bite for her brother (who will tolerate no consumption in which he cannot partake). But I'll bet they were still the best tasting eggs ever to emerge from the nether region of a chicken!
This morning I dragged myself into the kitchen after getting showered and dressed for work and found a big soggy bowl of cereal sitting on the kitchen table, assembled all for me by my junior chef. It was a proprietary blend of Cheerios, Honey Chexs and probably a number of other secret ingredients that cannot (or rather should not) be revealed.
Tonight when I got home from work L got to show off more of her handiwork: a mighty fine, homemade mini yellow cake with chocolate frosting. (I was very relieved to learn that it was leftover chocolate frosting I found smeared over N from head to toe.)
I'm sure it was a tremendous treat despite the fact that it was essentially a very yellow, very sweet, and very crunchy toast-like rock. (The kind of stuff I could imagine Hansel and Gretel's witch using to frame up her graham cracker roof.) She crunched through it quite happily after reluctantly agreeing to the 25% food tax levied by her never-sated brother.
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