This week-end Ken took Lauren on an outing.  He asked her if she wanted to go to the store.  She eagerly got dressed, went potty and got shoes on so that she could go.  She knew this was a rare opportunity.  It is not often that we "divide and conquer" (a sin, I know!) , so here was a chance for alone time with Daddy, not to mention being able to go somewhere while Rachel stayed at home (has that ever happened??).  So, Ken and Lauren went to a particular bagel store.  After getting some bagels and even eating one there, they left for home.  However, while the bagel store was nice and all, Lauren did not see that as "going to the store".  She pointed this out to Ken and began asking to go to another store.  He asked her which store she would like to go to and she answered, "Kro*ger".  I would have guessed that she would have said "Tar*get", since she often asks to go there.  Anyway, they went to the Kro*ger and came back with a few things to take on Sunday's picnic, including a pack of those ready to bake cookies.  Ken said, "Look what Lauren picked out at the store."  Now, having been to Kro*ger about a brazillian times with Lauren, I know that she does not know where those cookies are located in the store.  Could she find the ice cream aisle?  Sure!  Those yogurt covered pretzels?  Absolutely!  Those sickening sweet sugar cookies with the obnoxious neon frosting and sprinkles?  You betcha.  But the ready to bake cookies?  Nah.  I'm not saying I've never bought them before or that I only do home-made cookies.   All's I'm saying is I think Daddy must have pointed them out to her.

Onto the "baking" lesson!  We missed out on having a picnic, so we had lunch at home.  After lunch, Ken decided to make the cookies.  He asked me how long they bake.  Instead of saying, "Read the directions," I said, "I don't know....about 10 minutes or so?"  I then added that he should preheat the oven.  I said that because I know Ken is often impatient and figured he would just throw the cookies in right after turning on the oven.  So, he turned on the oven and then left the kitchen.  Being nosy/meddling/pessimistic, I took a gander at the temperature he set it for: 400 degrees.  Hmmm.....I thought, "That seems kind of high.....maybe I should check the package (knowing he did not)."  Sure enough, it called for a 350 degree oven, not 400.  The bitch in me wanted to leave it as is and let Ken learn a little lesson.  Much like the "burnt soup" lesson a while back (anyone remember that post?).  BUT, the mother in me knew that would be a cruel lesson for the girls to learn.  They could not wait to have those chocolate chip cookies with the Toy St*ory sprinkles.  The chocolate lover in me just could not live with herself if she let her husband burn the chocolate chip cookies!  Knowingly ruining a batch of chocolate chip cookies?  Unheard of!  Unforgiveable!  So, I adjusted the oven to 350.  Ken finally came back to the kitchen, put the cookies on the tray and threw them in the oven......for 15 minutes.  When I saw the 15 minutes on the timer, I thought, "Wow!  That's longer than I thought.....okay.....whatever."  Figuring Ken had read the package when he was putting the cookies on the tray, I refrained from checking the package directions.  So, I went about cleaning up the lunch stuff and waited for the timer to go off.  When it did, I pulled out the cookies and thought, "Hmmm....they seem rather brown to me....I bet 15 minutes was too long."  Ken asked how they looked and I just said, "Fine," even though my inner bitch was thinking, "A touch overdone for my taste."  So, we ended up polishing off the tray of 16 cookies pretty quickly.  The girls and I had three each.....you can do the math to know Ken had a lot of cookies!  Anyway, as I was cleaning up, I decided to take a look at the package directions.

11-14 minutes

Sigh.

Is it just me or would you have set the timer for 11 minutes and then checked the cookies?

Who sees 11-14 and says, okay 15 minutes?

So, if I had not intervened at all, he would have baked those cookies for 15 minutes in a 400 degree oven.

Again, maybe it's just the bitch in me.

Or maybe it's the hormones.

You just don't mess with CHOCOLATE!!!!