Baking

MARISSA

Getting home on Friday afternoon, I found Denise and Annie baking cookies in the kitchen. There was flour on every surface, a half melted block of butter next to the microwave, several mixing bowls filled with batter and a bag of chocolate chips on the counter.

But it also smelled divine in the house, so at least that was something. I grinned when I found them wearing the novelty aprons I got them for Christmas last year. Denise’s said ‘Queen of Everything’ and Annie’s read, ‘The Remix.’ The one I got for myself read ‘The Original.’ Annie’s and mine were meant to be worn together, so I immediately got mine out of the cupboard and joined in with making the mess.

“How was your day, ladies?” I asked, tying the apron’s strings behind my back.

Denise cast an eye across the kitchen and jerked her head in the direction of the oven. “We’ve been baking, so it’s been great. We’ve got bran muffins, chocolate chip cookies and oat-crunchies made so far.”

“Who was hungry when you got home?”