Last Thursday night after running to pick up my daughter from after care at her wonderful camp, she handed me a slip of paper. The thin strip of orange announced that tomorrow, the last day of the session, was staff appreciation day. The note explained that while the counselors could not accept monetary gifts, baked goods were entirely appropriate. My daughter was hyped up to bake. She's seven and said she would help. The two hours between camp pick-up and bedtime were filled with making dinner, bathing both of my daughters (or micro managing there showers), cleaning up after dinner, and bedtime. Needless to say, I did not bake cookies after their 8 PM bedtime. I worked, picked up our house, paid some bills, and two hours later I hit the hay myself. That, it turns out was my mistake.
Upon waking, the first words out of my 7-year-old's mouth was "Did you make the cookies?" And when I replied a terse, "No" she began to cry. I logically explained that I had a lot other things I had to do after she went to bed and although she offered to help, she never mentioned baking again once we arrived home. Logic, ha! The tears softened my resolve like the butter I was soon to carefully warm in the microwave.
I donned my super mom cape (I don't really wear it much) and with my husband out on an early morning bike ride, I made a batch of Snickerdoodles — one of the counselors, my gal told me, didn't like chocolate. (This little fact makes me think the camp staff had been baiting their campers to hurry home and beg their haggered parents to bake goodies). In addition to cookies, I also made breakfast for my girls and their lunches. Got them dressed, packed up, and ready to go, while getting ready myself. Bonus: we all got to where we needed to go on time without having to run at all!
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