The first "oh my" came when Tristen (age 2) grabbed a glob of dough and put it in his mouth when I wasn't looking. All the children beg for little bits of the soft yeastiness on bread day, but this time I'd turned my back and was talking to Daniel. This time the eyes in the back of my head must have been closed. Poor baby. He started gagging on that nasty lump of dough and had to be rescued.
Then, after putting the last of the six soft loaves into their little beds to rise, I ran to the living room to check on something else, leaving the aforesaid sweet little man alone at the table with the aforementioned six soft loaves resting. When I returned to the kitchen I discovered nearly one whole cup of flour dumped on top of parts of two loaves in their loaf pans.
Somehow baking seems to take longer these days. Everyone wants to help. "Can I crack those eggs for you Mama?" "You stay away! I'm stirring the soup this time!" "Can I finish that up for you Mama?" "Why don't I ever get to help?" Oh my.
A good friend told me she has a different child help each day with her various cooking jobs, that way it eliminates too many children in the kitchen at once. I've toyed with the idea many times, but today brought it to mind again. I think I really will have to try it. Five children. Let's see, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday!!
Ok, I promised everyone cookies before bedtime. Although around here the dough usually disappears before it ever makes it to the oven.