Saturday, August 23, 2008

Love is

Love is a granddaughter boasting to her grandmother about her experiences in the kitchen.

Love is a grandmother sending that granddaughter her own set of measuring spoons as reward. As incentive.

Love is the bounty of the earth, which has provided for our CSA to drop an excess of zucchini at our doorstep.

Love is the patience of a mother, who looks at her overtired, overstimulated, undernapped and yet still not ready to slow down daughter and volunteers to facilitate a zucchini-bread-baking activity to refocus her sensibilities.

Love is the tongue-biting of a mother, when daughter who wanted to snack on a banana, and wanted that banana sliced just like a friend of hers eats it at school, decides she doesn't want to eat any banana after all, and with a quick, confident, unassuming flick of her wrist throws her banana slices in the batter. Because really, what's the difference between banana bread and zucchini bread, anyway. And when the daughter insists on adding chocolate chips, which have nothing to do of her knowledge of the wonderfulness of chocolate chips in zucchini bread but rather her world view that baking activity = Mama, I eat some chocolate chips now? But again, she's right, because hey, who doesn't want chocolate chips in their zucchini bread. Even if the sly little goal was not chocolate-chip-zucchini-banana'ed bread, but rather Mama, I eat some chocolate chips now!! And even though when Mama mused out loud, while looking at the recipe, about substituting some of that disgusting quantity of oil with applesauce, that daughter yelled, NO! Mama! We have to follow the RE. CI. PE!!! And so we used an entire cup of oil, and no applesauce whatsoever. But did add a banana and chocolate.

Love is the restraint of a mother, who doesn't dampen her daughter's exuberance for her own kitchen awesomeness or the awesomeness of her new spoons, even though the measuring spoons have already been successfully applied to the task of measuring (hence their title????), and perhaps this act of stirring heavy batter is better reserved for spatulas, like this one right here, purple, selected just for you, both for its color and for its nice long handle because then you don't have to be wrist-deep in the batter. But never mind, on that.

Love is leaving the dishes for Daddy to wash, and spending time instead eating lots and lots of chocolate-chip-zucchini-banana'ed bread.

August 23, 2008

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1 comment:

(fairy) Godmother said...

Great blog! I blog for the same reasons... though unlike you, I much prefer to forget the bad stuff!