David has cried whenever I cook anything since the day he was born. He did it as a newborn, a sitter, a dragger, a crawler, and now that he’s walking he has so much more leverage. Once he pulled my pajama pants down in a fit of rage when I was making his breakfast.
A few days ago I was making cinnamon bread and he was throwing a fit. I tried all the usual tricks: food, Thomas videos, ignoring him. Nothing worked. Eventually I decided that he was frustrated because he wanted to see what I was doing. It took me 15.5 months to figure that one out. That’s gold star parenting. So I got a chair from the dining room and let him watch what I was doing.
He was the perfect little helper. When I put flour in the bowl, he mock-put flour in the bowl with a measuring spoon. When I rolled out the dough to knead it, he patted it. He basically acted like the sweet little boy his grandmothers imagine he is all the time.
Then he started getting crafty with the flour.
And you know what? I just let him do it.
(I took this photo after cleaning off the counter.)
David never plays quietly unless he’s emptying his diaper pail or playing in the toilet or dumping flour on the floor.
The good news is: the bread was delicious.
