One of These (People) Is not Like the Other

When we baked peanut butter cookies the other day, my daughter swiped tastes of ingredients, leaving a finger trail in the flour dusting the countertop. Later, she held her pinky between the mouth of the vanilla bottle and the teaspoon. When she helps in the kitchen, she likes to mix but not measure, scoop but not sift.



My son cracked the egg on its pointy top, not its side, and overlooked the bits of shell in the bowl. He wrested the mixer from me, struggled to hold it upright on full power, and endured my hand steadying his.

But when the cookies were done, both took identical courses of action. As did I.




Let’s eat.