Well, That Was A Disaster  

I suck when it comes to anything related to the kitchen.

Scratch that--I'm good at cleaning the kitchen, but since I've sworn off all domestic chores in an effort to live a more spontaneous, joyful life, the kitchen doesn't see much of the old Lysol and microfiber rag.

But I did find myself spending some time--far more time that I'd planned, in fact--in the kitchen this weekend. Why?

Well, G has taken a liking to cooking. Bizarre, right, since I almost never cook?

DH does cook, quite well, I should add. He has an amazing ability to throw together a gourmet-quality meal using just Bisquik, whatever almost-moldy cheese is in our fridge, chicken and salad dressing. G loves to grab her little stool and stand on it precariously, peering over the edge of the counter while DH explains how to make a red wine reduction sauce.

But DH was at work this weekend, and I was on my own... meaning that when G asked to make oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies (just like the kind Little Red Riding Minnie carries to her grandmother's house in our Disney story book), it fell solely on my very non-Julia-Child-like shoulders to make her sugar-craving dreams come true.

The project started out badly, since we didn't have eggs, chocolate chips or oatmeal in the house, but that's nothing a trip to the grocery store can't solve. Once we returned home, G and I donned our darling (and matching!) little aprons (why is it that women who don't cook always have at least three aprons? I have more kitchen aprons right now than shoes that fit my swollen little feet...). She pulled up her stool as I pulled out the mixing bowls, and we got to work.

Everything seemed to be going fine... although I did notice the batter was a little runny. Actually, it was really runny. Even after I'd added the flour, oatmeal and chocolate chips, it was still far more liquid than solid.

"Well," I said to my inexperienced inner chef, "That must be right, I've followed the recipe exactly."

Oh, did I say, "exactly"? What I meant to say is, "Not at all." But naturally, I didn't realize what had gone wrong until much, much later.

Undeterred, I scooped spoonfuls of the liquidy mess onto the cookie sheet and slid it into the over, where it proceeded to completely liquefy under the 350 degree heat, running off said cookie sheet and onto the burners below, which resulted in a horrendous smell and the setting off of every smoke detector in my house (which, then, resulted in ADT calling us to make sure everything was all right... technically, it was, but what had I done to those darn cookies? The woman on the other end of the phone wasn't sure, but wished me luck).

I poured what was left of the batter back into the mixing bowl, staring at it with a mixture of anger, confusion and frustration. I still had an impatient two year old--who didn't understand that you have to MAKE cookies (apparently she would have been just as happy with me buying a box of them at the store, go figure)--at my side, asking me when she could eat. So, I poured a little more oatmeal, chocolate chips and sugar (why sugar? I'm not sure, it made sense at the time) into the bowl, mixed it up, then put it back in the oven.

At this point, the chocolate chips had all but melted in the hot batter, leaving us not with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, but with simply chocolate oatmeal cookies. They didn't exactly float my boat, but G seems to like them (she's already snuck too off the counter... reminder to mom, put the cookie plate up on a higher shelf), and that's really all that matters.

So what did go wrong with that recipe?

Well you see, in an effort not to send my daughter into a sugar-induced coma, I decided to make just a half batch of Minnie's famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. But I didn't remember to cut the recipe in half until I got to the solid ingredients... meaning I had twice as much butter and sugar as I did oatmeal and flour.

Yup, I think I am the reason they make boxed cookies. Girl Scouts, here I come.