Baking Cookies

I made him snort laugh, making a joke about my armpits. He explained how I would die an immediate frozen death if I found myself on the planet Saturn. “I wouldn’t recommend a trip there,” he said.

We paused long enough to lick the bowl, and go wave at the International Space Station as it flew overhead. I later asked why he was shaping some really small cookies on the tray.

“Small cookies for small hands, Mom. For PJ.”

He wanted to know why I mix brown sugar with white sugar, and how the fan in the stove lifts the cookies a little bit higher. He also announced he can’t wait to bake with his kids one day.

I simultaneously see him as that precious blue-eyed baby boy from nearly eight years ago, and the witty and attentive future dad I think he’s destined to be.

Feeling grateful for this phase, this precocious and hilarious boy of mine.