Aliza wanted to make cookies the other day. And I was recently reminded that she won't always be a little girl who wants to hang out with me. The day may come when I'm not cool (I know, I can't imagine that either) and she won't want anything to do with me. So of course I dropped the important stuff I was doing (playing Bubble Spinner on Facebook) and started to gather ingredients.
The thing is, you know
who did all the work of making cookies?
Who slaved over a hot oven? And
who cleaned the mess?
And
who ate the most cookie dough?
That would be
me.
Can someone explain to me why raw cookie dough tastes so much better than the finished, baked cookie (which, while warm, is definitely a close second)?
No comments:
Post a Comment