Cookie monster

The holidays are always kind of a strange time at our house. Since Tom and I are out here on our own, it's hard to get together with family for traditional celebrations. This week, Jack and I have been at loose ends, because most of our friends do have family in town and haven't been available to play.

Yesterday, to give us an activity to do, I thought it would be fun to try to bake cookies with Jack. I know a number of moms (mostly of girls, admittedly) think this is a great way to bond with their children. Jack was really excited about the prospect of doing it.

But then...

• Every time I opened a cabinet to get out an ingredient, he would be right on my heels, grabbing something else out, shaking it, opening it, sniffing it until I told him him, "Put that back. Right now." And then he'd throw a tantrum.
  
• Every time I measured something out, he'd wheedle, "I want to help, I want to help, I want to help," until I let him pour it into the bowl.
• Each time I turned on the mixer, he'd go running into the next room, covering his ears and screaming, "It's too loud!"
• When I finally got him to come back to the kitchen to "help," he'd start the whole process over again, all the while dancing around, getting underfoot, and chanting/shouting, "I want a cookie! Is it done? I want a cookie! Are those the cookies? Cookie cookie cookie!" on a continuous loop.

Finally, toward the end, when he ran out of the room to escape the mixer, I just let him stay in the living room until I finished up.

The cookies themselves turned out pretty well. I made the Neiman Marcus chocolate chip cookies of urban legend. Jack ate four. He seemed to think the overall endeavor was a success. I, however, probably won't be planning another cookie-baking day for a while.