The Gateau monster is in the bottom right hand corner there…the one with the helmet.
On Wednesday I was conducting a Christmas cookie making session with Charlotte, Camille, and their cousin Lola.
Clem spent a happy hour after getting up from her nap crawling under the table eating every little bit of squashed cookie dough and rainbow coloured decorative balls off the floor.
Yes, let me just take a moment to confirm that whereas your parenting principles start to slip with child #2, they go into a blistering nosedive with child #3. I just couldn’t work up the motivation to be up to the herculean task of trying to stop Clem from hoovering up the baking detritus from the kitchen floor. If I recall correctly my thoughts were along the lines of, “Good! Nice to see she doesn’t have an allergy to raw eggs, and at least the floor will be clean.”
You’ll also notice that Camille wanted to take her shirt off so it wouldn’t get mucky, and even though it is December and was snowing outside I just gave a mental shrug and figured that wasn’t worth being one of my battles of the day.
Anyway, I eventually put Clem in her high chair and gave her an actual baked sugar cookie to try. She ate it with relish, chattering away to herself while I dealt with a food colouring crisis.
After the crisis had abated I realized that Clem kept chanting the same word over again, “Ah-toe, ah-toe, ah-toe.” Then it struck me; my daughter was saying “gateau” as in the “petit gateau” (meaning “cookie” in French).
“Ah-toe” is now her favorite word, and she wakes us up at 6:00 am every morning chanting it over and over again in her crib. She must be dreaming about “ah-toes” all night long.