One of those days right around Christmas, Steve decided it would be a good idea to engage both of our children in the task of making bread. Yes, really. He has been doing this more and more lately – suggesting activities out loud, in front of the kids that he knows have a success rate hovering somewhere in the single digits. And when I say ‘success’ I don’t mean that the project reaches full completion, but that any of it gets completed without one or both children or parents experiencing complete emotional breakdown. He did it again this week, when he suggested that we do finger painting. Indoors. With both children. He might as well have just opened the knife drawer and told them to go for it. I also find it quite odd that it is he – the one with the irrational fear of messes – who suggests these activities. I can only imagine that it is akin to throwing someone out of a plane to cure their fear of heights.
After suggesting the whole finger painting fiasco activity, I told him it would require that I had a cocktail in my hand. That day, happy hour began at 3:00pm. Steve was mopping the floor within the first 15 minutes. He was rocking in the corner within 30.
The bread making digressed not so much because of the floury mess that was created, but rather due to the volatile nature of the participants. If you lean in close, you can hear the anguished cries of Porter’s protest from pretty much the first moment he joins in the process.