Frances Friday: Chef

"Do you want to help me make Hallowe'en cookies, Frances?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I'm going to be rolling out cookie dough and making cookies...."

"No."

"...and using the special Hallowe'en cookie cutters."

"Yeah!"

"Oh. OK. Let me get ready."

"Me too me too! I want to help! I want to help!"

"Ok. I just have to tidy up. Do you want to hold the cookie cutters while you're waiting?"

"Yeah!"

She helped me roll out the dough. She tapped the cookie cutters in flour and pressed them into the dough. She sprinked Hallowe'en candies on top and patted them into the cookies. She helped for every set; her interest did not flag until we were all done. When they came out of the over, she carefully and proudly carried a plate of her very first cookies over to Daddy, and they had a snack.

I got a snapshot of her standing in front of the oven, holding her plate of cookies, grinning hugely and covered head to toe with flour. It was inevitable that she would be wearing a black top and black pants that day, wasn't it?

Then she had a cookie and declared that she would rather have chocolate chip.

~~~~~

Wednesday was "What, Presentation? You're not doing a presentation on Friday" Day, on which I attempted to convince myself that all the ironing and printing and pdfing were unrelated and frivolous activities, in order to preserve what is left of my stomach lining.

I did what I always do when I want to distract myself and reduce my stress level. I played with Frances. (You'd think, with such ready access to such a reliable stress-reducing technique, I would be less anxious than I am. This is one of they modern medical mysteries of our times.)

The first game was "throw the basketball." I threw it to her; she threw it to Erik; Erik threw it to me. "Yawn," you say. "Whatever, Andrea." But no. First of all, she can really throw. For a 30" girl, she's got a great arm--and she puts herself into it, lifting the ball above her head and heaving it across the room while jumping off the ground. Sometimes, after a particularly energetic pitch that bounced off Erik and sent him mock-crumpling to the ground, she would laugh and say, "Did I scare you, Daddy?" Then run over to give him a hug for comfort.

Sometimes, she would jump off the ground and heave the ball--only for it to dribble out of her fingers and bounce off her head. At this she would laugh so hard it made her fall down; which got Erik and I laughing, increasing the volume of Frances's laughter, and on and on in a merry circle.

Then it was time for extreme hide-and-seek. There were no decorous ten-second countdowns in this version, boys and girls. No coy seeking of calm hiding places. No peeking around corners or behind doors. No. There was running, and standing behind walls, and jumping out from behind while shouting, and shrieking, and laughing, and more running, and getting dizzy, and falling over, and uproarious laughter. There were two parents crumpled in exhausted heaps watching Frances race around the basement, careening around obstacles, tipping this way and that, shouting "Come catch me, Daddy! Come catch me, Mummy!"

It did my stomach lining a world of good, though I can't say it did much for my energy level.

Posted by Andrea at October 27, 2006 6:02 AM under Beanie Baby Brags

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