My poor kids think this is what all homemade cookies look like.

Today is yet another snow day, and Izzy asked if we could do something fun, something special. "Sure!," I said, "We'll make cookies!"

Now, I do not make cookies very often, as evidenced above. But as I was faithfully following the recipe I realized that we were out of vanilla and flour. That makes it most difficult to make cookies.

We had a little over a cup of self rising flour left, and the recipe called for a cup and a half of all purpose, so I added extra oats and eliminated the baking soda. FYI: Not a good idea.

It was really the first time Sophie could remember helping with cookies, so when I offered her the spoon to stir, her face lit up like I handing her a bowl full of chocolate with full permission to eat as much as she wanted. After jabbing it delightedly a few times, I took the bowl back from her to actually get it stirred up.

"No, mommy, I stir!," she yelled. I told her it was too hard, that I was going to have to help.

She stretched her arms up over her head and sternly told me, "But I'm big girl!" I let her stir some more.
Izzy then came in and offered his services, much to his sister's dismay. You can't tell, but she's got her head turned crying, tears streaming down her face at the indignity of having the cookies taken away.

He didn't last long, though. He's like his dad and I, and way more interested in eating the final product than in the construction of them. Plus, he had his super secret tool 3000 to play with - it's laying there beside him. It's a little specimen jar from a doctor's kit he got for Christmas, with a pear Christmas ornament inside of it. Then there's a white tube lid from a sucker Chris got him, and another Christmas tree ornament on top of it. Topping the tree? A piece from a Dora Legos set, of course.

I'm off to try some of my super-flat oatmeal cookies now!