The stuff I helped sell at last weekend's cake stall looked so good, so professional, that I felt like such a culinary failure in comparison. I'm the one who once made a sponge cake and forgot to put the sugar in, the one who didn't have enough beef for her casserole and made up for it in pork.
But today I decided it was time to make gingerbread men. It seems such a waste to have bought those expensive cookie cutters, and only use them on playdough. I also thought TLM might enjoy helping me mix the dough, cut the cookies and taste the results.
She was great at mixing time. But she kept trying to toss in extra ingredients while I was already onto the knead'n'cut phase. Then she wouldn't get away from the hot oven while they were baking. I was pleased that she seemed to like them, but while I was cooking her lunch she kept sneaking up to the kitchen table and taking the box of cookies away (though she hasn't yet worked out how to open it).
In the end I had to sit her in front of Dora, just to give myself a break from preventing scalds and over-full tummies.