1m2aSandbox

I’ve noticed recently that when I am
without the kids, I instinctively do two things: shop and eat junk
food. And I can’t help but worry about that a little bit.


I understand completely why I do it – they’re the two
things hardest to do with little ones underfoot, but for different
reasons.

Easter is a tricky time with a
preschooler, I think. I mean, it’s the pivotal point of
Christianity – if Christ hadn’t died and risen,
it’d be a moot point here – and I want Maddie to get
that, to understand the enormity of this celebration. At the same
time, she’s only three years old and has a very vague
understanding of death and what that means. So even as I explain to
her what we’re celebrating, I’m aware she doesn’t
quite get it.


I also worry about explaining it too well; the knowledge that
Christ died for me and my sins is humbling, and to a preschooler,
the idea of being the cause of someone else’s suffering could
be a big burden.

When we moved to Texas, I was struck by
how many SUVs and mini-vans there were on the road. Coming from New
York, a city that prizes cars able to fit into small parking
spaces, I felt more than a little intimidated as I drove down the
highway surrounded by behemoths.


Then the gas crisis hit last year, and I filled up my modest
four-door rather smugly as the owners of the gas-guzzlers
commiserated with each other, and vowed that the next car we bought
would be, at the very least, a hybrid. Maddie had been begging for
a mini-van ever since we’d borrowed a family member’s
for a couple weeks, and I scoffed at the idea of needing one for a
two-kid family, even as my mother suffered silently while being
wedged in between two car seats in our sedan’s back seat.


And then things changed.

We’ve got a friend coming over tonight who just had a birthday, so the past couple of days we’ve been making cupcakes to give her. Monday evening I did the cupcakes, and last night we made the frosting.

The girls have always loved baking, but I didn’t quite realize how much they enjoy it until last night: Maddie and Cora were both upstairs playing with Daddy when Gamma turned on the stand mixer to start creaming the butter. Sixty seconds later, Cora came hurtling into the kitchen. Without saying a word, she ran over to the stool, slid it across the floor next to my mother and jumped up. “Cora help?” she said hopefully.

When Maddie was a baby, I had several
rules in place that only a first-time parent will ever even attempt
– things like no television until age 2, no desserts until
age 2, that sort of thing. I had well-researched, well-documented
reasons for these rules, and was proud we managed to follow those
rules despite societal pressures and temptations.


Fast-forward two years, to Cora’s early days, and while the
rules may still be in place, they’re taking quite a
beating.

A few weeks ago, we hit the local zoo for
the first time this season. Not far from the entrance of the park
is the flamingo exhibit, and you can hang over a bridge or railing
and watch the birds. Cora, especially, loved seeing the flamingos
and spent quite a lot of time studying them, even asking as we left
to stop and stare again.


I watched the girls play in the gift shop at the end of the day and
noticed Cora once again gravitated towards flamingos, so I sneaked
back in and picked up a small stuffed flamingo for Cora’s May
birthday. What can I say – I plan ahead.

It’s no secret that breakfast is
Cora’s favorite meal of the day; she can easily spend an hour
in that chair, eating a good three or four bowls of cereal and a
half a grapefruit. Or she’ll eat a bowl or two when she gets
up, then sit down for another round when Maddie awakens later. My
girl can eat.


So when we’re in a rush to get out the door in the mornings,
prying Cora away from her breakfast can be my number one time-suck.
Which is why, on mornings when we’ve got a deadline –
church, or Maddie’s early gymnastics class- Cora’s
breakfast becomes a moveable feast. She’ll have a bowl or two
in the chair – this works best if I rush her through getting
dressed and sit her down to eat while Maddie’s still blearily
finding the bathroom – which will tide her over for a few
minutes. Then I’ll bring her “second breakfast”
to go: if we’re headed to gymnastics, Cora knows I’ll
have one of my homemade breakfast bars for her to eat there. And if
we’re rushing to church, I used to bring a Tupperware tub of
dry cereal for munching, or even, as a special treat, storebought
– gasp! – breakfast bars (Odwalla rocks!)


Store-bought can be expensive, though, especially when Maddie
begins demanding a second breakfast (“But Cora’s
getting one!”). So I cast my mind around for something
special for Sunday mornings – something to set the day apart,
make the girls look forward to rushing to church. And since Cora
doesn’t get desserts yet, I knew she’d love something
called “cookie”. I dug through my recipe books, and
came up with this winner.


It’s almost a bran muffin in cookie form; packed with fiber
and nutrients and with a cinnamon taste the girls love – and
nut-free, for those of you with younger toddlers. If I bring along
sippy cups of milk they chortle with glee over their “cookies
and milk” breakfast. I got this from The Sneaky Chef, a
decent cookbook for kids with a couple of great recipes in them. If
you make these, feel free to make the cookies larger – twelve
to a cookie sheet – and freeze them on the sheet, then
transfer to a Ziploc for individual grabbing.


Next time your kids can’t get moving, just tell them
you’re serving cookies for breakfast and watch them fly.