You know, Elsa has been kind of a wild child. She’s been a climber and a jumper and a mess-maker. She’s been a talker, but not necessarily a clear talker. She’s been someone to run away when called and to try to hide when the chaos is about to be discovered.
But, my friends, no more. This girl is golden. (Most of the time.) She’s a helper. She likes to help. She’ll find a way, despite my protests/hope that she’ll go away and leave me alone.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in the kitchen, where she’ll sit on the counter and grab the chopped vegetables out from under my knife to put them in the pot/on the pan. (Again, despite my protests.) She’ll scoop flour (and then steal some for a taste-test), she’ll get out the muffin pans and fill them up with muffin liners. She’s well on her way to taking over the dinner-making duties.
And I say that with complete confidence because on Friday she made herself a jam sandwich. From start to finish. She pulled the jam out of the fridge, got the bread out of the bag, chose a blue plastic knife and went to work. She even remembered the part where she needed to banish me from the project, as I have done to her so many times.
The result was a jam sandwich, just the way she likes it: with nothing but jam on it.
Side note, she also dressed herself. In case you couldn’t tell.
My work here is practically done.