Julia really loves helping me bake, and this afternoon she excitedly hopped onto one of the kitchen barstools to give me a hand with the cinnamon bread I was whipping up. I guess her eagerness to help me out was temporarily muted by her interest in the mixer's head attachment, though, because as I was measuring out the first ingredient, she sat on the stool waving the mixing head around in the air, dreamily singing a self-composed song about a hot air balloon ride, completely oblivious to the fact that I had already poured the sugar into a measuring cup. When I dumped the sugar into the mixing bowl, however, she was snapped back to reality, leading to this conversation:
JULIA: Hey! I wanted to pour that in!
ME: I'm sorry, honey, you were all spaced out singing your song about a hot air balloon so I thought you weren't interested in pouring it in.
JULIA: (holding out the mixing head) No, uh, Mommy, this is my hot air balloon.
As I have stated before, it takes veeeeery little to spark her imagination.
Julia's hot air balloon.
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