The Ginger-mess Man

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You know those magazine ads and TV commercials where you see happy moms and children cooking together?

That is SO not like what it is really like.

Me Too is home sick today. Well, at first I thought she was probably well enough to go, but since I wanted to avoid a soul-sucking graduation party decoration committee meeting (yep, this for preschool,) I let her stay home. But she probably is on her way downhill, so it was a good call. Go, me.

Anyway.

She’s been obsessed with all things gingerbready for the past several weeks, so I told her we would finally make some gingerbread today. But no gingerbread men, and no gingerbread house. (Though I will attempt both when I have my mom here as back-up in a few weeks.) We have a Christmas party to go to this weekend, and since I’m home today anyway, I decided to make two pans full and have less to worry about on the day. Which is a logistical nightmare. Note to self: perfect my quantum leap before Saturday.

Me Too loves to cook, god bless her, but as soon as she enters the kitchen things take twice as long and are three times as hard as if I just made it myself. Today, she managed to get molasses (okay, kuromitusu,) all over the table. Then she dropped the mixer, with the batter-covered-beaters still attached. She somehow managed to drop it at the precise angle that maximizes splatter all over the kitchen. I started to clean that up; at this point I must mention that I discovered HRH has used all my spray cleaning fluid magic stuff and put the empty bottle back on the shelf. Bastard. Me Too wanted to help with the clean up, but come on man, there were raw eggs involved. So I asked her if she would please smooth the surface of the poured cake so that it looked pretty. She smoothed it, alright. All the way over the rim of the baking pan.

It’s in the oven now. We’ll see how it turns out. And if my kitchen will ever recover.

Update: It was good! Yum.

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