"You'll never guess what your son did!"

That's what the text I just sent to my husband read. This was the accompanying photograph:

 So there are two kinds of parents. The kind who sees this kind of mess and says a naughty word under her breath, and the kind of parent who sees this kind of mess and grabs the camera while simultaneously saying the naughty word. I am the second type of parent.

The next text to my husband read, "You'll never guess what your other son did!" This was the accompanying photograph:

Nick always sticks his tongue out when he's working really hard. 

So would you like to know the back story of how this mess came about? It all started with guilt. Henry was napping (finally), but I could hear Nick reading to himself upstairs. I had been working on writing lesson plans for most of the day, and I haven't had some one-on-one time with Nick in ages. So I whispered to Nick to come downstairs, and we decided to bake some Christmas cookies.

Nick is learning to measure and level off with a knife. 

Before Henry became mobile, Nick and I used to bake together all the time. It is just really hard to cook with both boys in the kitchen. I can cook with a kid, but not two of them. Nick was able to follow all of my directions and even read the packages in the pantry. "S is for sugar, F is for flour."

After we made the dough, we moved into the dining room to roll it out. We had an unexpected visitor--Henry was awake! So it was three for cookie cutting. I had chosen these cookies specifically because they're fairly soft and will fit into Henry's "soft food" diet and won't poke his stitches.

It is impossible for me to make cookies without also making a humongous mess. 

Henry helped us roll out the dough, and he made cookies that vaguely resembled gingerbread men.

Nick's rolling technique was a little more sophisticated than Henry's, but he has years of experience.

Then it was time for the sprinkles. Ahh, sprinkles. When you're two, you can't just add a few.

Nick thinks all man-shaped cookies are gingerbread cookies. Oh, and do you see that bag of flour on the table? That is the bag that started this post.

It was while I was putting the cookies in the oven that it happened. I didn't hear a sound, but when I walked out of the kitchen, there he was. . . 

What can you do but laugh?   :)  Oh, and the cookies? They were kind cute, once baked. 

They were just very "special" little men.