I Scoop. You Squeeze.

I scoop.  You squeeze.  It's a new but unwritten house rule for the Flynns.  It started with a batch of chocolate chip cookies.  Channing, after eating loads of sugar and chocolate chips while I mixed the dough, decided that he wanted to be the one to put the cookies on the sheets prior to baking.  Try as he might, he could not get enough leverage on the cookie scoop to get a full dip.  He got a little frustrated until I volunteered to do the scooping while he did the squeezing.  Worked like a charm.  Well, sort of.  He kept trying to squeeze all of the scoops onto the same spot.  

We scooped.  We squeezed.  We baked our way to chocolate chip cookie perfection.  And we washed it down with a big glass of milk.  Ahhhhhh...

It wasn't long before the cookies were consumed.  Every. Last. One.  Why couldn't I have kept just a few so that when our neighbor brought a sample of his smoked pork ribs over for WM to try, I could have washed his plate that night, filled it with cookies and returned it?  I know.  You're thinking, why couldn't you just return a plain, old clean plate?  I just can't.  


Is anyone now thinking of the book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.  For those of you famillar with the story, yes, sometimes my brain works like that.  

So we made cupcakes to keep from returning a plate of nothingness to the neighbors.  Channing carefully helped prepare the batter.  When it came time to put the batter into the baking cups, he grabbed the scoop dunked it into the bowl, let the gooey mess drip a moment or two and handed the scoop to me.  'I scoop.  You squeeze.  It's the rules.  Scoop please.'

The cupcakes, once baked to sweet perfection, were frosted with chocolate and then Channing made them spooky, adding eyeballs to each one.  They were delivered to the neighbors.  No, not just Trent, Nicole & Lexi, source of the fabulously tasty ribs.  Kyle & Bekah, Jim, Kelly & Megan too.  Channing insisted.