Feb. 24: I love…
… kitchen time.
The floor is covered in flour, cookie cutters, empty spice jars, and smashed banana. Pots and pans are on the floor, in the cupboards, and in the living room — all with a smidgen of flour and spit stuck to the bottom. Her pants and mine have dusty, floury fingerprints.
On the stove is a new soup experiment from leftover pork shoulder. Rice on the back burner. Beans soaking on the counter. Biscuits fresh from the oven tempt me… dinner seems so far away.
Our clothes, our skin, our hair smell of onion and garlic. And, today, chili powder, too. I sniff the wet coffee grounds as I toss them in the trash can. I wish I had the strength to compost all these apple cores and egg shells. But it’s still winter. And that’s why soup and biscuits sound so good to me.
The dishes pile up and the counter shrinks. I peel some mushy, half-chewed banana bit off the bottom of my sock as Ainsley tugs my finger, leading me to the living room where she’s set up her blanket and stuffed animals. They’re all ready to read Do Like Kyla. Again.
Yes, I love kitchen time.
It’s worth every mess for moments like these with my little girl.