In the midst of all the crappy stuff that's happened this past week, I got to do something with Ainslie that I've always visualized doing with my children--we baked! It helps (in this particular instance) that she is very much into "Help Me" (which in her mind is turned around--she is saying, "Me Help.") right now and wants to do whatever I'm doing. She stood nicely on a kitchen chair and ate a snack in between helping me stir. We sampled our frosting along the way to see when we had used enough powdered sugar.
As much as it always irks me a bit to see myself slowly turning into my mother, I have such great memories of doing the exact same thing as a child. Sitting on the yellow folding stool, cutting out cookies, then slowly transitioning from being the helper to being the supervised baker.
It's not that I'm a fabulous chef (the cake was from a mix, but we made our own frosting AND pudding to use the yolks--again, just like Mom!), but there is something comforting to the soul about repeating traditions with your children. Sure, my car may be near death's door and we had a purely HORRIBLE weekend to recoup from, but for that 30 minutes or so, my little girl and I made dessert and it was sweet.
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