This is supposed to be fun, darn it!

I love to cook. I have been looking forward to the boys being a bit older so we can start to cook together and make warm fuzzy memories of baking cookies on a lazy afternoon. I have images of measuring and mixing and sharing laughter-filled stories. Sounds nice, doesn't it? So today I thought I'd bake fall lollipop cookies with the boys while Ciara napped. I found a recipe on another blog I read accompanied by a picture of cutely decorated cookies on a stick. It looked easy enough.

So here is how the story went in real life:

Ciara woke up while we were mixing the batter.
I went up to get her and came back downstairs to find more flour on the floor than went into the dough in the first place. And the kitchen is empty.
Called the boys back after I swept up flour so we can get on with making the cookies.
I now have three of them bickering about whose turn it was to roll the cookies in the colored sugar.
(Ashamed to say) I lose my patience and tell them if they can't all take turns I am making the cookies. By myself.
I almost burn myself and toss the cookies (ha ha) while stepping over one of the bickering children who has thrown himself on the floor.
I answer the question "Can I have a cookie now?" 25 million times before the cookies are actually cool enough to eat.
Cookies are finally cooled, each child takes one and runs away to watch Spongebob.
Guess who cleans up?
And the cookies looked much better than they actually tasted.
The End