In this second installment of "Things We Never Told Mom", I decided to skip ahead a few years to when we started to get crafty. My first handful of years of life, were basically a period of time in which we (read: Greg) was learning about cause and effect - if I cause the fire extinguisher to fall down the stairs, the effect will be... Well, that's for another time, but you get the picture.
I love to bake. Always have. As a kid, I would bake cookies so often, that my Dad would be surprised if there wasn't a batch of freshly baked ones waiting for him when he got home from work. Hold on, if I could...let's revisit one word: "baked". You know what's better than baked cookies? If you answered "cookie dough" you would have fit in well growing up with us kids. Cookie dough is also a surprisingly fast way to get to the enjoyment part of the cookie making process.
Sometimes, we had just enough time to whip up a batch of cookies before Mom would get home from work. Correction: whip up a batch of cookie DOUGH, because we rarely had enough time to actually bake them. Now, we all know deep down that eating raw cookie dough is not the best life choice, given the uncooked eggs and all, but what's life without a bit of risk? (Disclaimer: Don't eat raw cookie dough)
On one particular afternoon we were craving cookie dough of the chocolate chip variety. Just as we began to enjoy our creation, Mom comes home. Early. Instead of getting out the baking sheets, which would be the logical next move, we scooped up all the dough and threw it in a gallon size ziplock bag and hid it in Greg's bottom drawer of this dresser.
As you may have guessed, we got busy with after-school homework, chores and dinner and completely forgot about the entire batch of dough in the drawer. I don't recall how much time went by before we remembered, but given the raw eggs I mentioned earlier, it wouldn't have lasted long anyway. I think it's safe to say, it was at least a day or two.
Why we felt the need to hide the dough is beyond me now. Kids can make some pretty bad judgements, which is why the drinking age is 21, not 12.
I hope you enjoyed this addition of "Things We Never Told Mom". If you want to read Part I, you can find it here.
Cheers to fresh baked cookies and cookie dough alike,
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