Banana Bread Bylaws

I made two loaves of banana bread last night, and it smelled so good while it was cooking that I couldn't resist opening up the oven door and seeing what it looked like! It looked like something I'd like to eat. But, I had made them both to bring to work today...one for the language arts group, one for the math group.

Erik had just discovered the baked apples earlier this week, and I knew I was in trouble. The bottom line of this development is that now, instead of 'hmmmm, maybe I'll make up a batch of baked apples', my new thought would be 'oh no! we're out of baked apples! must make more!' Because what Erik wants, Erik gets. He's very spoiled.*

So it happened last evening. I'm sort of over the kitchen this week, quite honestly! So much cooking and preparing and preserving and all the cleaning that has to happen each and every time. Put a fork in me, as they say, I am done! But last night Little Prince** needed baked apples so there I went, coring, peeling, slicing. (My BRAND NEW machine that does it all? Grrrrr. One or both kids did something that I can't figure out, so it was not working for me!)

When I whipped up the banana bread, therefore, I thought I was in a safe territory. He had already eaten dessert, after all! But he came sniffing into the kitchen on the same lovely scent that had me picking up my camera, and that was that. He was milling around, demanding that I stop obeying the laws of physics, and make it cook faster because it was taking "too long". I explained that this is how long it takes, plus, he couldn't eat any of it because I made it for work.

"No way. Legally, half that is mine."

ha! He is so funny! I just shook my head and rolled my eyes, but that stuff kills me; I think he's hilarious. And, in the end, he knows that I would never be able to really tell him 'no'.

Little Prince wanted bread. Little Prince got his bread. Do you think my team will notice?







* He is so spoiled. I've often say when I die, I want to come back as Erik. What a life! But the truth is, he totally deserves it. I can be really awful (no, really!) and he's always a peach. So there really isn't anything I won't do for him, since he is so perfectly lovely just about all the time.

** Erik's dad was Croatian, his mom is Latvian. They named him Erik with a 'k' instead of a 'c' because "it was more international" that way. Also, he told me once it means "prince" so of course I was struck by how apt this moniker turned out to be, and the phrase Little Prince was born.