After helping me make cookies, Bean sat at the dining room table, enjoying the fruits of his labours* with a glass of milk. He looked over at my rings, which sat on the table where I’d put them down before shaping the cookie dough.
“Mama, you should put your earrings on!”
“You’re right, I should put my rings back on.”
As I put each one on, I told him what it was. “This is the ring your Daddy gave me when he asked me to marry him. This is the ring your Daddy gave me on the day we were married, when we became husband and wife. And he gave me this ring when we had been married for five years.”
“I wish I was married.”
“Maybe you will be married one day. Would you like to be married one day, and maybe have kids of your own?”
“I think I will be married when Alex gets married.”
“Who do you think you’d like to marry?”
“Alex is gonna be a fireman marry, and Cooper’s gonna be a ‘struction** marry, and I’m gonna be… a ammamance*** marry! And Cooper’s gonna be a police marry.”
“Okay then, sounds good.”
“Cock-a-doodle-doo! Flying chicken spaceman!!”
* labours = switching the mixer onandoffandonandoffandonandoff, not-so-sneakily sneaking chocolate chips from the bag, and asking to smell the vanilla extract.
** ‘struction = construction (of course)
*** ammamance = ambulance
Motherhood (and all the rest) 
We have the same wedding band! Only I had mine customized to be alternating sapphire and diamond.
K is also fantastic at making cookies. Her cookies are only chocolate chip in the loosest sense. she has dextrous little fingers.
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Nice. I always think of baking together as this fun, relaxing, wholesome activity… and then we do it, and it’s a huge mess, and he tries to eat chocolate chips out of the dough, and then loses interest, and then says, repeatedly, “this is taking FOR LONG!” as he waits for the cookies to bake. But we keep doing it, so I guess it can’t be that bad. 🙂
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It’s a rite of passage. You must bake with your children, no matter how long it takes, or how many times you wonder if they just had the fingers they are now sticking in the dough in their nose. It simply must be.
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Hi Tricia (beloved first friend ever!) – I am so thrilled to find your blog on here and having been pouring over your delicious words. Funny thing – Liam’s nickname is Bean too – or “the bean” because when we first chose his name an Irish friend of mine said we were pronouncing Liam wrong – it was supposed to rhyme with Bean (how that works, I don’t know). Anyway just wanted to say how overjoyed I am to have connected through our words again. I still think of our L.M.Montgomery readathon sleepovers!
Love Kee
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Keeley! I’ve been reading your gorgeous work, too, and am so proud to say you are my first friend. So happy to reconnect. Funny thing about “bean”; we started calling ours that as a wee fetus and rarely used his real name until he was at least one. Anne of Green Gables forever, yo. 🙂
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*have, not having!
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