Brownie Points

Inspirational song: Lawyers, Guns, and Money (Warren Zevon)

I want to be the kind of grandma who teaches the kids stuff, like how to sew or paint or play piano, as my grandmothers did with me. I want to be remembered the way I remember mine, by how the kitchen smelled or how long it took to go through the canned tomatoes after one grandmother died (three or four years, at least). I don't have the patience of a saint, so there are lots of skills that will need to wait until these guys aren't toddlers or preschoolers. But today was a good step forward towards passing on one of my most enduring skills, as queen of the kitchen.

Valerie told her mommy that she wasn't feeling well this morning, but they had to be here even if she was a bit under the weather. Mommy had a proctored certification exam for her work (which she passed, of course), so the kids came early. I devised a plan to get Dmitri some one-on-one time with grandpa, and they went down to float in the river just like Val did a few days ago. While they were gone, my smart four-year-old and I got to baking. I started her on a box mix of gluten-free brownies, and let her handle a lot more of the process than I had before. Her mom has helped her build skills too, so I was confident she could handle it. We cracked the egg together. I poured oil and water into the measuring cup for her to pour. She stirred with a fork, and scraped most of it into the pan. We still need practice using cooking spray, but that will come with time. She got enough covered to do the job. The only thing I wouldn't let her help with was getting it in and out of the oven. Overall, the brownies were so-so. It was a GF box mix, so we didn't expect perfection. The point was the process, and she did so well.

The boy came home damp and still full of energy. He played hard once here, and napped hard once he was persuaded to be still (which he never likes). We waited until both kids had helped feed the cats and dogs, and then cut up the brownies. Wouldn't you know, just like the bread from his grilled ham and cheese sandwich, pieces of that boy's brownie ended up on the floor. You have disqualified yourself, sir. And here I thought you liked chocolate.