Demon Baby has a new passion. He likes to "help" cook.
The thing is, it really, really makes him happy. You have never SEEN a child so filled with utter JOY as when he gets to help cook or bake.
His father is a foodie and a former chef, so I suppose it makes sense. But to give you an idea . . . he woke at 6:30 today and ran shrieking through the house singing "The Pancake Song" because he was going to get to make pancakes. The Pancake Song pretty much consists of screaming out, "I'M MAKING PANCAKES" in a sing-song way. Five hundred times in a row.
After mixing the batter, he got to stand and watch for the "bubbles" that signaled it was time to flip them. But he doesn't, even though you are standing there right next to him, say, "It's time to flip." No . . . instead, he screams it, he shouts it, he cannot contain his exuberance at the miracle of the pancake griddle.
We made grape Jello two days ago. You would have thought we cooked a 12-course French meal.
But . . . you know no story of Demon Baby is complete with . . . well, DEMON BABY. So yes, in general, cooking with him is a disaster. He thinks it's funny to put the spatula IN the batter. As in bury it in the bowl so it's a gloopy mess.
He "aims" for the bowl when pouring in ingredients.
He makes it about half the time.
At least when he cooks, the dogs feast.
Oh, and one more thing. Demon Baby doesn't think he needs me to cook. So his new "thing" is taking strange ingredients and combining them to make soup. Thus, yesterday, I gave him a bowl of Life cereal (no milk) for a snack. I came in to write in my office. He found a half-full can of Diet Coke left on a table by his sister and added that to the Life cereal. Then he went into the kitchen and took leftover rice and added that to it. Then he decorated generously with M&Ms. Then he stirred. A lot.