I thought making scones would be fun.
Or should I say I thought eating scones warm from the oven would be fun, and making them might stave off the impending boredom related tantrum.
The Naked Chef is all very well as a title for a TV show, but if Jamie had actually been cooking with his tackle dangling about in the mixing bowl I would have quite lost my appetite. Syd however feels that naked from the waist down is the perfect cooking outfit, this resulted in one of those ‘sentences I never thought I would say’ moments:-
‘There is a no genitals out when you are cooking rule.’
The determined to fall off the chair bit. Despite me having everything ready before allowing him into the room, and all he needed at the right height in front of him, there was a somewhat dangerous amount of teetering and one ‘thank god Mummy caught me’ moment.
Flour doesn’t taste good on it’s own. I did warn him. He didn’t listen. He nearly vomited and then gagged as the claggy mix of powder and saliva stuck to the insides of his mouth.
The Impatient Cook. Why can’t we just put everything in now all in one go? Why can’t we re-create a scene from Frozen with this flour? Why can’t I eat the butter straight from the tub? Why add just this little bit of milk, why not pour in half a pint? Why isn’t it cooked yet? Why isn’t it cool enough to eat yet?
Scones are boring. Why make those when it is far more fun to invent something utterly unthought of before by breaking up Mummy’s oatcakes and putting them in her coke. While I am sure there are unbelievable health benefits from this concoction, I am certain you are with me on passing up the opportunity to try it, even when it is being practically forced up your nose by a determined but short chef.
Cooking with toddlers is only for the brave, but on the plus side – the scones were delicious!
Love Miss Cisco XXX