Cookie Dough

Both boys had wanted to help me make cookies, but when Phil started working with a saw--well, somehow both of them evaporated . . . Yet, they both managed to make their way into the kitchen when the dough was done.
Donning a very serious-you're-not-going-to-want-to-do-this face, I asked Bryce if he would help me with something. Dubiously he agreed (maybe his nose helped him make the decision). I handed him the mixer's paddle (upon which I'd made sure there was a huge chunk of dough with chocolate chips), and he smiled as he gave me a 'you're so silly' face.

[Okay, now imagine how one might react when viewing-for the first time-a magical, sparkling glacier or fjord or waterfall]

Bryce looked at that cookie dough covered paddle, his eyes got big and then bigger, his heart skipped a beat, and he breathily mouthed Wow. Then, as though the paddle morphed from being that glittering fjord into his newborn baby daughter, Bryce tenderly held the paddle and nodded his head with a smile, Beautiful.

Deacon was just plain cute. (But also, let's talk about how much we love Sur la Table rubber spatulas: we love them).