Cooking with a Toddler, Part Deux or This Dog has a Death Wish

Cooking with a toddler. Cooking with my toddler. Cooking with my toddlerS. Sigh.

I wish I could tell you that this happened and it was fabulous. I wish I could sit here, and tell you, that my son and I cooked a beautiful meal together. That we took turns utilizing the ingredients, working the utensils, and laughing with a glow that only comes from the most joyous of situations. However, sadly, that is not what happened.

Instead, what transpired was something out of a horror movie. Imagine pizza sauce flying, cheese falling into odd crevices, children crying. It was a disaster. I mean, I don’t want to be dramatic, but it paralleled “The Day After Tomorrow” Circa 2004.

Totally comparable

We had decided to make the recipe “English Muffin Pizza’s”. This seemed like a safe choice and the kids were pretty “into it”. I was prepared to embark on this friendly pizza adventure, when the children decided to melt. down. APPARENTLY, its socially acceptable to angrily turn down a food that you had ASKED for. I wasn’t aware, so my reaction was less than stellar and it all went downhill from there.

I wasn’t able to calm them down, but I got the ingredients out while they shouted obscenities at me. (O.K., O.K. It was more or less them just shouting, “We don’t want that nasty pizza!” and the like). Then, Harrison told me that he needed to poop. So, he headed to the bathroom to poop while Delaney continued to scream, “Nasty pizza!”.

Then, the inevitable happened. As I walked out of the kitchen to wipe a certain someones’ butt, I was taken aback by a suspicious sound in the kitchen. So, I told Harrison, “Wipe your own butt! But make sure you wash your hands really good after.” and I turned to go back. What I saw, cannot be forgiven. THE DAMN DOG WAS ON MY COUNTER. (If you read my last post about the ridiculous monster , you will be less shocked by this than you might be otherwise.) As I was screaming and motioning for him to get off the counter, he furiously lapped up what sauce he could, and ran through the bowl of cheese and pepperoni’s (imagine, if you will, a bowl crashing to the ground, but miraculously not breaking.)

I was at a loss, I was defeated, but the kids were happy. They didn’t have to make OR eat the “nasty pizza”. Win/win I guess. At least for the stupid dog and my precious children.

He started out so sweet, but at some point he turned on me

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