The cook, the thief and the wife

It’s official. The holidays have begun. I am baking a pecan pie as I write. Time to pull out the stretchy pants. My gearhead DH has easily transferred his equipment obsession into the culinary field and has arranged for a turduckin. At least no frying is required. Fried turduckin may be next year. I am surprised he is going for something soooo trendy, but I was not consulted. He is the flesh chef. I stay out (excluding my bobnoxious commentary, of course). Meanwhile, Kid is baker assistant #1. Her speciality is licking, and not just spoons, but counters, bowls, shirts, even the floor if the batter is extra nummy (and if you know my floor, you know how disgusting this is). I am hoping she is building a strong immune system. She is honing her skills at thievery, also. Although fast, she seems to lack the covert operation part. Even at a regular hide and seek game, she shouts out “I’m over here” or “Hehehe” while wiggling and shaking whatever she is holding onto. She has been known to grab something off limits, dash to her room, throw it in, slam the door and lock it (YES, call CPS, we switched the lock around on her door; it was either the lock or adoption for her). While this method works quite well for her peers, those of us slightly older than 4 understand how to unlock a door knob. Which brings her to tears every time. I fear for her next level of progress.

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