From the double-doors that open to the kitchen area, I can tell my two girls are hidden behind the kitchen island. Slowly, I make my way to the other side, praying that the loud bang from earlier was not one of the kitchen cabins breaking down.
Maddie’s head of curls appears before her sister’s face, covered by a generous layer of frosting, comes in sight.
The maple floor of our kitchen looks like the outside of the witch’s house from the Hans and Gretel story I read to them a few nights ago. Chocolate chip cookies, caramel candy, cinnamon rolls, cookie-dough, cotton candy... You name it, my daughters found it in their mother’s pregnancy-cravings cabin.
Macy’s green eyes land on my grey socks and her cookie stops travelling to her mouth as her eyes follow their trajectory up to my face.
“What have you two been cooking up here?” I ask.
Maddie turns around at the sound of my voice coming from behind her and it is only now that I see that her strawberry hair has been dipped in the chocolate sauce.“It was Dora, daddy.”
“Yeah, she and Boots wanted to explore the kitchen!”
Footsteps approach from the living room, my wife's laugher greeting us first. “Oh, no. Not again.”