I had a few grand dreams about what my summer would look like. I made lists. It was dreamy. Obviously, two weeks into my summer, my list is a joke. I do not do a craft with Ben at least once a week (stop laughing--I really did want to try and do that. But let's be honest here--I don't craft), I do not go to a different park every week, and I have yet to go to the library. But during week one, when I made most of my summer plans come to life, Ben and I made cookies together.
It really was a perfect day made in Mom of the Year Heaven. We had pajama day. We watched a little extra TV and cuddled. We had breakfast burritos. We played. We made cookies together. And I learned how controlling I am. Wait, what? How did that one get in there?
Seriously--make cookies with your toddler and see how crystal clear your personality comes alive. To be fair, if I hadn't taken the reigns for parts of it, we'd have lumps of dough rife with chunks of butter and a burnt toddler. But I surprised myself with how often I wanted to jump in during perfectly harmless and safe toddler baking fun. It took everything in me to just let him roll the dough the way he wanted, push the cookie cutters in willy nilly without regard to maximizing dough space and minimizing re-rolling, grab fist-fulls of dough and plop them on the baking sheet, dump whole containers of sprinkles on each cookie, whisk flour onto the floor, and play with the train-cut dough like a train. But once I got the hang of hanging back, I could have exploded with joy at seeing his joy. And all the while, with blissful alacrity, he cried "cooksie! cooksie!" I taught him to lick his fingers and put flour on mommy's nose.
Honest to goodness, it doesn't get much better.
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