I woke up this morning to Jordan and Maddi making muffins in the kitchen. I remember at some point, while tucked deep under my covers, Jordan ran into my bedroom holding a packet of muffin mix and asked if he could cook.
Without being serious, I told him, “That mix needs a half a cup of milk.”
To which my son replied, “What is a half cup?”
Rolling over I said, “The measuring cup with a one and a two on it.”
Minutes later my kids were calling me out to the kitchen. I mustered up the energy to see what the damage would be–envisioning powdered mix covering large quantities of space between our counter tops and floor. The actual picture amused me. Maddi sat on a barstool stirring the lemon-poppy-seed batter as if she was a pastry chef. Only thing missing was a chef hat.
“Look, Mom!” she said, “We’re taking turns stirring!”
Jordan held up the measuring cup and said, “See, Mom! We used the right one!”
Sure enough they did. Have I mentioned they are only three and four years old? I turned on the oven (including one of my many lectures about how only moms can operate ovens. I suppose dads can, too. But, in our case we stress mommy jobs and kid jobs.)
Sitting down for breakfast Jordan asked, “Are we ready to enjoy a muffin, mom?”
Laughing, I nodded. How can my children be so little and so big at the same time? When did my son start using words like measuring cup and enjoy in the right context?
This is what I love about life. Simple mornings. Sleeping in (sort of sleeping in). Kids who make their mom breakfast. Kids who smile and enjoy their moments. A cup of coffee. Time to breathe. New days. New enjoyable days.
