Counter Terrorism

When Yvy was a wee tyke, and I wanted to get something done in the kitchen with both my hands, I would clear a space on the counter and plop her down. She was thrilled to be up high, able to see what was going on, and first dibs on licking the bowl was a bonus. It was a great arrangement. To this day, she likes to sit where she can see, and gets a little pushy about it if someone invades her territory.

Looking back, I had no idea how good she was about it. She never fell off. She never raided the cupboards. She never tried to climb the microwave, she never tried to walk over and stand on the stove top.

George is not Yvette.

Once again, I find myself with more work than I can do during my toddler's nap time, and not enough umph to do it all one-handed. So I have tried to sit my George-Porge on the counter while I work. This is not the sweet deal it was with the former toddler. George opens cupboards and dumps out pasta. George empty the knife block. George opens the drawers and swings from them. George shovels the silverware and cookie cutters onto the floor with loud and wild abandon.

wearing him on my shoulders isn't very effective, either, but sometimes it's a coping mechanism

A couple of days ago, I was making banana bread. I have the best recipe, and it is the only way to use up the last few bananas after they lose visual appeal for the hungry masses. In toddles George. Darn it. I was in a hurry, and I was almost done, so I took a calculated risk and plopped him on the counter next to the mixing bowl. I figured he would just dip into the batter and lick his fingers, which I can totally handle over hacking at the edge of the Formica with the metal spatula.

After he dipped one finger a time or two, he went in with his whole hand and shoved his fist into his mouth. Then he wiped his hand on his pants. And went back in for more. This time he dripped it on the counter in big globs. And tried to rub it off with his legs. I wielded my washcloth valiantly and staved off any major catastrophe.

But while I was busy greasing and flouring the bread pans, George widened his search pattern. Pretty soon he found the baggie of bee pollen stashed behind the flour canister. It's been there for ages. I bought it with the idea that Mark and I were going to experiment with the health claims of more energy and fewer illnesses. We just kept forgetting to use it. And by the time I noticed what George was doing, he had bit a hole in the bag and dumped it in piles on the counter. Not a small amount went into the mixing bowl. I stood and stared at it for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

A brief Worst Case Scenario popped into my head, where I went ahead and baked the banana bread with the bee pollen in it, only to slowly die an excruciating death of food poisoning - along with my children - because I was unaware that bee pollen is deathly toxic when baked with bananas. I entertained the thought of taking the time to pick each little ball of pollen out of the batter. I considered searching online to see if there were any strange side affects of baking and ingesting bee pollen. Then I thought, nah; we're good. And dumped the batter into the bread pans and popped them into the oven.

You should know the banana bread turned out great. No one died. Everyone loved it. And it was snarfed down in short order.

You should also know that George did the bite-a-hole-in-a-baggie trick again tonight. It ended badly for him. This time, I was making lentil soup, and he was not on the counter (I do learn, you see). So he contented himself with opening the spice drawer, hanging from it, and tossing the spice bottles he can reach onto the floor. He can't open any of them, because Mark and I tighten down the lids for just this purpose.

Then he found my stash of homemade Emeril's Essence. Which is in a zip-lock baggie. And he bit a big hole in the bottom. And he got a whole mouth full. I was tuning out the spice bottles hitting the floor, because I knew I could just pick it up when he lost interest. So when he started fussing with increased urgency, I was slow to respond. But when I looked his way, I knew immediately what happened.

I scooped him up and washed his poor little mouth out in the sink. Then I washed his hands so he didn't rub it in his eyes. And shook the extra out of the folds in his clothes. He sucked down a lot of water, and was still whimpering a bit as he wandered out of the kitchen. I guess he had taken all he was going to put up with. Until the next meal, of course.

BONUS!

Emeril's ESSENCE

• 2 1/2 tablespoons paprika
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 tablespoons garlic powder
• 1 tablespoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon onion powder
• 1 tablespoon cayenne pepper
• 1 tablespoon dried oregano
• 1 tablespoon dried thyme

Combine all ingredients thoroughly and store in an airtight jar or container (NOT a zip-lock baggie!).

Yield: about 2/3 cup