“How many sprinkles? Like, a pinch or a lot?” I ask Regan, emphasizing a lot, causing her to wiggle with giggles.
“A lot! A lot!” She jumps up and down on the chair.
I reach my arm out to steady her. “Okay, be careful.” I laugh. “How about you put the sprinkles on because you know the exact amount?”
“Yep, I do,” she says, her little voice brimming with confidence.
I’m making sugar cookies with Regan for the eighth time this month. She loves baking, and to be honest, I find it almost therapeutic. Something can be said for repeatedly completing a simple task, especially when said job brings a sparkling smile to a little girl’s face.
So, I don’t mind. Grace minds, saying that her butt is getting huge from the never-ending supply of cookies that Regan and I have been making her eat, but i
