baking day.

A little head at each elbow, two grasping hands on my knees. “I do dat, mama?” “can I lick the spoon, please, mummy?” “I has lick of ‘poon too, mama?” “bub bub bub mama, BUB BUB”. The old Kenwood churns away, adding to the cacophony that is baking day. Chocolate cake, biscuits. Maybe a slice if we have time. And all made with recipes passed down through the women of my family. I love baking my great-grandmothers biscuits, filled with memories of many after-school snacks, dunked hot, into cold milk. Mixing them on my grandmother’s Kenwood mixmaster, a gift from my grandmother when my mother was a tiny child. And now, it’s my turn, with three small people “helping”.

 

But today, we won’t be baking. Bubba Boy is unwell, and we’ve been up half the night with a cough. So today is all about the snuggles. A movie or two, a quick trip to the doctor. Some playdough if he perks up enough, maybe some sewing for mummy. Doing a great deal of nothing until school pickup time comes around. Holding him close and getting him well. Horrible bugs, rack off and leave my boy alone. Downhill run to the weekend starts NOW!

 

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