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Cookie Monster
Jul. 23rd, 2009 07:33 amSo, last night I was baking cookies for Theatre@First's concession stand. The breeze was blowing the lovely baking smell out the window, so ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
buxom_bey couldn't smell them from the living room.
As I move the first batch from cookie sheet to cooling rack, one breaks. I eat half, and take the other half in to my wife.
Her: Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! [makes like a baby bird]
Me: It's too hot, I'm not putting it directly into your mouth. [hand half-cookie to her]
Her: [around mouthful of cookie] You're the best husband ever!
A couple minutes later she comes into the kitchen with a hopeful expression.
Me: No, no, these are for Theatre@First.
Her: But they won't know how many you made!
Me: No! I haven't broken any others yet.
Her: What about that one? [points]
Me: It's not broken.
Her: I could break it!
Me: No! Scram.
A few minutes after that, the second batch comes out of the oven. Being an indulgent husband, I break one.
Me: [loudly] Oops!
Her: Squee! [sound of Grey's Anatomy being paused, scampering, she enters kitchen]
Me: No, I'm not putting it directly into your mouth! It's straight out of the oven! [hand half-cookie to her, proceed to eat other half]
Her: I love you!
Me: I love you, too.
Her: . . . You gave me the smaller half.
Me: . . . I love you. I'm not stupid.
Later, after spooning the fifth batch onto the cookie sheet, I get a plate, but the beater on it, and bring it into her in the living room.
Her: [giggle] I love you so much.
Later yet, I'm letting the next-to-last batch cool, and she comes into the kitchen for some water. Cookies are everywhere around the kitchen. She turns from the sink to find me giving her the hairy eyeball.
Me: No touching!
Her: What?
Me: Stay away from the cookies!
Her: What like this cookie? [points at cookie from distance of two inches]
Me: Back off!
Her: Or this cookie?
Me: Beat it, woman!
And later yet, the cookies are all bagged, and I head upstairs to bed.
Me: By the way, I counted the cookies. Don't eat any.
Her: Awww.
Me: If you behave, I can make a batch just for us.
Her: Mmmm!
Me: If not, it will be a long, dark, cookieless summer.
Her: [giggle]
buxom_bey couldn't smell them from the living room.As I move the first batch from cookie sheet to cooling rack, one breaks. I eat half, and take the other half in to my wife.
Her: Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! [makes like a baby bird]
Me: It's too hot, I'm not putting it directly into your mouth. [hand half-cookie to her]
Her: [around mouthful of cookie] You're the best husband ever!
A couple minutes later she comes into the kitchen with a hopeful expression.
Me: No, no, these are for Theatre@First.
Her: But they won't know how many you made!
Me: No! I haven't broken any others yet.
Her: What about that one? [points]
Me: It's not broken.
Her: I could break it!
Me: No! Scram.
A few minutes after that, the second batch comes out of the oven. Being an indulgent husband, I break one.
Me: [loudly] Oops!
Her: Squee! [sound of Grey's Anatomy being paused, scampering, she enters kitchen]
Me: No, I'm not putting it directly into your mouth! It's straight out of the oven! [hand half-cookie to her, proceed to eat other half]
Her: I love you!
Me: I love you, too.
Her: . . . You gave me the smaller half.
Me: . . . I love you. I'm not stupid.
Later, after spooning the fifth batch onto the cookie sheet, I get a plate, but the beater on it, and bring it into her in the living room.
Her: [giggle] I love you so much.
Later yet, I'm letting the next-to-last batch cool, and she comes into the kitchen for some water. Cookies are everywhere around the kitchen. She turns from the sink to find me giving her the hairy eyeball.
Me: No touching!
Her: What?
Me: Stay away from the cookies!
Her: What like this cookie? [points at cookie from distance of two inches]
Me: Back off!
Her: Or this cookie?
Me: Beat it, woman!
And later yet, the cookies are all bagged, and I head upstairs to bed.
Me: By the way, I counted the cookies. Don't eat any.
Her: Awww.
Me: If you behave, I can make a batch just for us.
Her: Mmmm!
Me: If not, it will be a long, dark, cookieless summer.
Her: [giggle]
