Sticky Lingers

I obviously felt the need to get away from nice dry fabrics, because I seem to have spent the last 3 days doing things involving glue, or similarly sticky substances.  It was of course Valentines Day, so I and The Daughters rolled up our sleeves and made biscuits for Daddy, who does like sweet things.  I'm sorry but biscuits are a hideous thing to make.  Dough?  Ball of dough?  How can you describe the sticky mangle of hitherto food-like materials as dough?  Dough I think of as dry and kneadable - this was a disgusting mash of goo which we were supposed to roll out and cut into shapes.  Is it just me, or is there not a single person on the cookie creating planet who hasn't had to add more flour to dry it up a bit?  Why not add an ounce to the recipe?  It was total chaos - not the fun it is purported to be, this cooking malarkey, because rather than celebrating the joyous mess of creation I spent the whole time saying things like "Hetty! No!"  "Isla! Stop!"  "Hetty!  No!"  "Isla! Stop!" amid other equally constructive comments such as "Do not pick up that spoon!" and "Don't touch that till I tell you to!" "Hetty, do NOT put that in your mouth!"

Hm.  Easy there, Mummy, we were almost nearly enjoying ourselves.

It did all more or less right itself in the oven, and we ended up with hearts and men and circles and flowers, which when cool were pretty unappetising, but who cares, it was all about the decorating.  Thence to more sticky stuff, the pink icing sugar and little tiny sugar alphabet letters and hundreds and thousands and chocolate dots, for decorating the unappetising biscuits, which was fun.  We three of us sat there, with our tongues sticking out, bent over our biscuits, or in Hetty's case, eating our biscuits, and had such a lovely time decorating them we did not notice it being suddenly ten past five.  Well fancy that.  Normally they have nagged me for television by then and their tea is underway, cooking itself somewhere, or even, if I've been terribly well organised, being eaten.  I looked at Hetty, whose face was full of her fifth biscuit, and said "You're so not going to eat your tea are you?"

They had a yoghurt and a cracker for their tea at 6pm.  

And slept through.

Hmmm.....