Picture Perfect Pizza

Yes, phone pictures.  Again.  I'm going to stop apologizing for them now.  You'll just have to get used to it.  Sometimes, I grab the phone to snap a quick pick for Instagram and then the cuteness just continues and I share here instead of there.  Like this:

Channing announced he wanted pizza for Friday night dinner.  I gave him the supplies.  He carefully placed not one, but two foot stools alongside the kitchen island.  Max, his chin just barely reaching the top edge of the counter, happily climbed up to 'help.'  

He's oh so very helpful.  See??

And cute.  Did I mention that he's cute?  Little stinker knows it too.  Milks it for all it's worth.  Frequently.  

Picture perfect pizza, minus a slice of pepperoni Max ate as an appetizer.

I just want to gobble everything up-our cute boys and that pizza too.  Yum!!!

Mini Chef

Channing's love of helping in the kitchen holds no bounds.  He's always up for a kitchen project.  Always.  Last Tuesday was no exception.  While the rest of us dined on herbed chicken pizza of the pre-made variety, having only to toss it in the oven to bake it, Channing's pizza was a little more involved.  He couldn't have been more pleased.


Have you ever seen these at Papa Murphy's?  It's called a Mini Murphy.  Everything you need is right there in the cute little box.  My mini chef smeared, sprinkled and plopped his way to pizza perfection.

He may have had just a little help from Grandma Meredith.  ; )

See?  A perfect little pizza for one hungry little chef.

Oh yeah, and he got a tattoo.  Not sure which he was more proud of, his pizza or his arm. 

 Nonetheless, it's a culinary experience worth repeating.  Soon.

Olive You Too Much

Don't you just hate it when you take a bite of pizza and all the toppings slide right off the top?  

Channing had never experienced it before as until last night, his pizza was always cut into bite-sized pieces.  For the first time, he insisted on eating his pizza like a big, tough guy.  

He did well, eating not one...No, not two...But EIGHT pieces of pizza.  He started with his favorite green and black olive pizza taking monster-sized bites and declaring each one better than the last.  Then he needed a little sweet to balance his salt.  Three pieces of apple strudel dessert pizza later, he switched back to olive.  

The kid loves olives.  There are days where he begs and begs and begs for olives.  If he spies them in the pantry while picking out his breakfast cereal, then that's what he has-cereal with a side of olives.  Makes no difference which kind either, black or green or Spanish or Katamala.  He does not discriminate when it comes to olives.  Ever.  I'll say it again, a side of olives for breakfast. Gross to you or to me, yes, but to him it is a special treat.  One that rewards me not with a mere, 'thank you,' but an '[Olive] you too much!!'