The state, quality, or fact of being responsible.
Something for which one is responsible; a duty, obligation, or burden.
In our house, all family members have responsibilities to contribute to our home. For example, I clean the toilets. Lawnmower man mows the lawn (during the off season, he vacuums.) Lil’Nanny empties the top rack of the dishwasher. And then there is Medium Nanny, she has a very unique job. She makes me sweet treats. Yes, I realize this is a load of responsibility for such a young girl. But let me explain…
I started letting her have this responsibility when she was about twelve years old. She always wanted to make No-Bake Cookies on Sunday afternoons, but I wanted to take a nap. I soon realized that I could loosely supervise her from the comfort of my couch because this recipe doesn’t require an oven. (that’s why they call’em “no-bake”) It wasn’t long before she was an old pro at whippin’ up a batch. I would wake up from a nap and there they would be…chocolaty, oatmeal goodness on my kitchen counter. She had mastered the art of no-bakes and it was time to move on to bigger and better things….
BROWNIES. Yes, she has been supplying our family (when I say family, I mean me) with lovin’ from the oven for a good number of years. Our conversation goes a little something like this, “I sure wish I had something sweet to eat” and she will say, “Why don’t you make us some brownies.” This is when I start talking in a whiny voice and say, “I can’t, I’m too tired, why don’t you make them.” She marches off to the kitchen and starts digging through the pantry for some Duncan or some Betty. And in 35-37 minutes, I’m sitting on my couch with a plate of chocolate goodness. She basically is feeding my addiction…I think Dr. Phil would call her an enabler.
This arrangement has worked out well for us, and I could go on like this forever. But then I had a horrific thought. She’s going to leave for college in the fall. What will I do? Who will feed my addiction? How will I get my chocolate fix? (insert mild panic attack here) While I was in the kitchen having my mild panic attack, Lil’Nanny walked in and said, “I wish we could make cookies.” JACKPOT! It was time for the tradition to continue.
So I showed her this...
I told her she could make them all by herself and I would watch from the couch. I would get up every now and then to handle the oven issues but other than that, she was on her own. She was excited.
And here she is with her fancy Kitchenaid Mixer...
If your going to make your children be slave bakers then you need to buy them the best equipment.
She did great. She doesn't know that this is an evil plot on my part to feed my addiction for the next eight years. Yes, count'em. Eight years. I'm good until the year 2016.
And here we have the final product...
I enjoyed these from the comfort of my couch.
Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think...God is so good to me.