baking up memories, one double batch at a time

From the time my five-year-old elder lad was a wee babe, I've been cooking and baking with him.  At first he loved watching the mixer churn up cookie batter (from a safe distance, of course, in my arms).  Now he mans the mixer most of the time (with close supervision, of course).  As his siblings have grown, they've pulled their own chairs up to the counter to bake with us.

There are all manner of great outcomes from baking with one's bambini, among them tasty vittles, an opportunity to teach about nutrition in a fun way, and even mathematical and scientific lessons right there for the taking.

Baking with bambini is not for the faint of heart, however.  When the adult baker is at peace with the possibility of messes, ready to mediate squabbles over whose turn it is to run the mixer or scrape the bowl, and prepared to answer pleas for "just one chocolate chip", things tend to turn out much better overall, as the inevitable minor mishaps aren't fuel for frustration that might lead to snappish tones of voice or the like.

Here's how this morning's cookie baking scene went down.  It's a school day, so the elder lad wasn't in on the action. 

The 20-month-old lass is tired and ready for a nap at 10am, but I am able to rouse her interest in cookies -- except she wants them *right now*.  The younger lad is rarin' to go mix up batter but balks at the idea of washing his hands.  (Why they do this baffles me, as they *love* to play in the water.)  Mama holds her ground on the hand washing, asserting no mixing is to be done until hands are clean.  The nine week old younger lass is rousing from a catnap and wants to nurse.  This holds up things in the batter-making process somewhat, but that's alright.

Hands are clean, so I scramble to queue up ingredients in an effort to simplify the process.  That in and of itself is one of the mightiest challenges of the entire undertaking.

Butter is churning in the mixer under the younger lad's watchful eye.  The lass is happily scooping and spilling the mixture of dry ingredients in a mixing bowl, edging out only a tiny amount of the mixture onto the counter.  She's angling for a chocolate chip, though, each time her brother asks for one.  "It's not time for those, yet," I tell them, and they register their discontent. 

Finally the moment has arrived to add the chocolate chips.  They each get one (and so do I).  When it's time to add the dry ingredients, the lass is not so willing to give up her bowl.  She will, however, if she can use the mixer, too, but this idea is a "thumbs down" according to her brother (even though he's had use of the mixer all this time). She dumps in her contribution, and because we are making a double batch, the batter begins to climb over the beater.

The lad is placated by the idea of him scooping the dough out of the bowl and plopping it onto the cookie sheets.  As I put the first four scoops in the four corners of the cookie sheet to hold down the parchment paper, he says the cookies are like magnets.  He and his sister each take turns helping me dole out the dough onto the cookie sheets, which then go into the oven.  The younger lass is climbing up my shoulder from the confines of my left arm.  This cookie baking business has lost its luster for her.

The waiting begins, and if not for the prospect of a banana and some yogurt (and some other "growing food"), I might've had mutiny from the little ones who want cookies for lunch.

Nutritional requirements met, the lass gets to try one of the cookies from the first tray out of the oven.  She wants another.   The lad has deferred cookie gratification until after his brief nap, as the thought of finishing his lunch at that time did not suit him.

Why do I put myself through such sometimes harrowing moments baking with my bambini?  Well, for one thing, I want cookies just that much.  But more than that, in this venture together we cultivate patience in the Mama, an understanding of and respect for the mixer's machinery in the bambini, consideration for those not present who might want cookies too; build valuable kitchen skills that will serve the bambini their entire lives; and have home baked treats to show for our efforts. 

Most of the time, baking with the bambini is a fun way to spend a chunk of time together.  The times when things get dicey have refined my multitasking and quick-thinking skills.  As much time as we spend together in the kitchen, I pray the memories we are making are happy ones for the bambini.  Through the lens of hindsight and with a healthy dose of humor, our family lore is being baked one batch at a time.

Now on to clean up the mess...