Wednesday morning. We delivered Erin to preschool, got a few groceries, and went home. I took Robin into her bedroom the help her start her morning nap. During this time you usually play with your cars and tractors.
When I came out of the bedroom, you were working in the kitchen. You had helped yourself to the spice rack and told me how you were mixing up a recipe (in my mortar and pestle). It was cute, and you showed me how the pot lid fit over top and it was your little pressure cooker. I thought it was a bit messy, but not all bad to clear out the spice rack. If I need to replace them, some fresh spices might be good.
As I was picking up the empty spice jars to add them to the shopping list and/or throw them away, I picked up a jar labeled "cayenne pepper." (This is usually on a high shelf--not with the other spices, just for this reason, so you had to work to get it down, it must have involved some countertop balancing that I'm glad I didn't see) So--no more recipe. I picked you up and carried you to the bathroom to wash and wash your hands. I dumped the recipe in the trash, and tried to console you by offering to mix up another recipe after we cleaned up all the pepper. You weren't interested in any other recipe.
I hope I haven't killed any future cooking experiments. It was a nice moment until I was afraid of pepper-laced fingers and where they might end up--especially if they were in baby Robin's face.
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