It’s Friday and we have a treat for you (Settle down, it’s too early for Happy Hour). Today, we’re sharing a blog from one of our favorite Facebook family members (say that three times fast), Stacie Duffy. Stacie is the mom of four extra special kids. Her blog, Alphabet Soup, humorously describes the myriad of issues surrounding her children and her family. Give it up for Stacie. Be sure to leave her a comment and to sign up for her blog to read more of her great work.
Cocoa by Stacie Duffy
Cocoa. Lovely cocoa. How do I love you? I simply can’t count the ways. You are used in all my greatest culinary creations from chocolate cake, to chocolate cookies to the most sinfully rich, heart-attack-in-a-2-inch-square-bar brownies. Sigh. I love you, cocoa. If I pair you up with sugar and butter, there’s nothing I can’t do in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, the Little Guy saw the Hershey’s logo on that delightful, industrial-sized can of cocoa and his sweet little mind went straight to “chocolate bar!!!” and that was the end of my cocoa.
I’m sure you’re all wondering how my Little Guy got to the cocoa, well, here’s the story: our house is Tim Taylor’s worst nightmare. It’s a fixer-upper from Satan himself. Our kitchen was designed by someone who has never cooked a meal, ever. Our entire home was designed by someone who never lived in a home with a family. Ever. So, the kitchen is long and narrow: known in home-design circles as a “galley kitchen.” I have other words for it, but this blog is PG so I’ll leave those words in the gutter where they belong.
In our kitchen is a small pantry. Essentially, it’s a closet (tiny) that you stack up anything that doesn’t fit into the teeny-tiny cabinets. There are perfectly spaced shelves in the pantry so as to store very large and/or tall items (like the huge cereal boxes that can be found in warehouse stores) right down to smaller items, such as extra ketchup or a bag of flour. (And, now you’re all wondering what this has to do with cocoa, I’m getting there. Honest.)
My pantry is stocked to bake any kind of dessert at any time. My children can come home from school and tell me they need 100 batches of brownies for tomorrow and I can supply it (if we excuse that little thing known as time). So, cocoa, flour, sugar, etc., are all in my pantry and ready to be whipped into something delightful in a moment’s notice.
Now, add one small, autistic (translation: better at problem-solving than any neurotypical person ANYWHERE in the universe and better able to climb anything than anyone else in history) 3 year-old little boy. Cocoa + shelving that can be climbed + Little Guy = That cocoa smell that is probably detectable across the United States right now. Well, by now, the smell has probably even wafted to the UK.
Little Guy grabbed a kitchen chair, dragged it over to the pantry, pulled out the cocoa and decided to open the can. All hell broke loose, thereafter.
To continue reading this blog, visit Alphabet Soup.
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