Tess can sniff out a baking mix from a mile a away. On my last trip to the store I picked up a packet of banana nut muffin mix. She had it waiting for me before I could even set my keys down. I sliced up a few bananas while she put paper liners in the muffin pan. She insisted on adding sprinkles and I said why not. We whisked and poured and put them in the oven.
I barely got the oven door closed when Tess asked if her brownies were ready yet.
Her brother piped up from doing his homework, never missing an opportunity to correct her.
"Tess, they are muffins. Not brownies."
Tess, " but I want brownies...."
Me, "sorry, girl we just made banana muffins. With sprinkles. You like muffins; they will be yummy."
Tess, realizing she wasnt going to win this one. " Well, can we just call them brownies?"
Me: "Sure. You can call them whatever you want. But they are still going to taste like muffins."
I laugh at my daughter's stubborn insistence. Even when she is completely wrong, because I think it is kind of cute when my 4 year old who can't read tells me that I spelled a friend's name wrong. Or tries to convince me that twelve-teen is in fact a number. Or that Justin Beiber is singing about her and that her pink boots do in fact match her red dress. She does not listen to reason. And most of these things are harmless so eventually I say whatever, wear your red boots and no one really needs to know how to spell anymore anyways (thank you spell check).
Today, however after 10-12 minutes at 350 degrees, she learned that no matter what you call them, muffins are never going to taste quite as good as brownies. She took one bite and threw the rest in the trash.
You can call something whatever you want, but it is what it is.
I may not be four, but I am occasionally just as guilty of that crazy logic.
Calling things something else, because it is more appealing than the truth.
I call my mess -"shabby chic"
My procrastinating - prioritizing.
Checking facebook for the upteenth time - relaxing.
My gossip gets called concern.
Another drink - taking the edge off.
Another helping - just being polite - or not being wasteful.
I call things i want - things i need.
I call my lazy -tired.
My anxious worry - planning ahead.
Picking a fight I call communicating.
And all kinds of other little lies that are so easy to tell myself.
More often than not I am all too happy to believe them.
But like that muffin, that was not anywhere close to a brownie....
not so easy to swallow.
I barely got the oven door closed when Tess asked if her brownies were ready yet.
Her brother piped up from doing his homework, never missing an opportunity to correct her.
"Tess, they are muffins. Not brownies."
Tess, " but I want brownies...."
Me, "sorry, girl we just made banana muffins. With sprinkles. You like muffins; they will be yummy."
Tess, realizing she wasnt going to win this one. " Well, can we just call them brownies?"
Me: "Sure. You can call them whatever you want. But they are still going to taste like muffins."
I laugh at my daughter's stubborn insistence. Even when she is completely wrong, because I think it is kind of cute when my 4 year old who can't read tells me that I spelled a friend's name wrong. Or tries to convince me that twelve-teen is in fact a number. Or that Justin Beiber is singing about her and that her pink boots do in fact match her red dress. She does not listen to reason. And most of these things are harmless so eventually I say whatever, wear your red boots and no one really needs to know how to spell anymore anyways (thank you spell check).
Today, however after 10-12 minutes at 350 degrees, she learned that no matter what you call them, muffins are never going to taste quite as good as brownies. She took one bite and threw the rest in the trash.
You can call something whatever you want, but it is what it is.
I may not be four, but I am occasionally just as guilty of that crazy logic.
Calling things something else, because it is more appealing than the truth.
I call my mess -"shabby chic"
My procrastinating - prioritizing.
Checking facebook for the upteenth time - relaxing.
My gossip gets called concern.
Another drink - taking the edge off.
Another helping - just being polite - or not being wasteful.
I call things i want - things i need.
I call my lazy -tired.
My anxious worry - planning ahead.
Picking a fight I call communicating.
And all kinds of other little lies that are so easy to tell myself.
More often than not I am all too happy to believe them.
But like that muffin, that was not anywhere close to a brownie....
not so easy to swallow.
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