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When my kids were little I baked and cooked with them all the time. If we’re having banana bread for breakfast tomorrow someone’s got to make it. One day I had my eldest boy on a stool at the kitchen counter helping me measure and stir, when I turned to search for a pan I thought was in a lower cupboard. Well, it wasn’t there and it wasn’t anywhere I went looking for it, and when I finally came up for air to see what I’d do next about this issue, I saw my boy still standing on the stool, but very methodically shoveling spoonful after spoonful of flour into his mouth! Apparently he thought it was sugar! Or something like that! Who knows what he was thinking. He was only three. Once I stopped him he got a panicked look on his face that suggested he didn’t know how he’d be getting another breath, what with all the gummy flour in his way, and he started to cry.

I supposed I could have panicked and dashed about frantically trying to fix the situation, fearful he’d choke before I did, but the truth is I was a very calm parent back then. (I am still pretty calm, but when the problems get bigger it does get more challenging!) So I laughed and got out some milk and cookies and told him we’d be taking a break right away to see if we could get that goo down his gulliver. We did. It worked. Fig Newtons and a wash of milk dragged it away, and then we made banana bread and had that too.

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