Today I decided to celebrate the Solemnity of the Feast of St. Joseph and the inauguration of Pope Francis by baking cookies. Not just any cookies, "dark and dangerous triple chocolate" cookies. These things are rich, cakey, and unbelievably good. If you want to forget about life for a while and drift off into a heavenly diabetic coma these are the cookies for you.
Anyway, as soon as I started getting out ingredients Isaac got ready to help by pulling up a chair. He's my constant companion in the kitchen and can get pretty upset when I try to do anything without him (such as preparing raw meat, using the stove or sharp knives--Isaac is confident that he can handle these things, but I'm still not quite convinced), so I try to include him whenever I can.
Everything was going pretty well at first. There was flour and cocoa everywhere but that was to be expected. Then, when we were almost finished Isaac got a taste of the batter (raw eggs never hurt anyone, right?) and realized how sweet it was. It then became a race. Isaac trying to shovel the batter into his mouth, and me trying to quickly finish mixing it and simultaneously stop him from ingesting it all. We don't give him a lot of sweets, but he sure does love it whenever he can get his hands on any.
I soon realized I would have to finish off the cookies without Isaac's help if I wanted there to be anything left to put in the oven. So I did what any 21st-Century mother would do: I put the bowl out of reach and went to get the camera, then blogged about it and put the pictures up on the Internet.