Inner Passion: hereditary?

Ever since I've known myself I've loved baking. As a child the mixing, the measuring and especially the spoon-licking would call to me. I'd wait eagerly by my mom hoping that she'd let me help and award me the beater when she was finished.

Now I see my daughter, my little helper, being the eager beaver. "Can I put the' suga' in? I want to mix it." She'd run and grab the bar stool and push it up to the counter where I'm working and offer a lending hand because "I'm a good helper, right mama?" a response like "Yes, you are Pumpkin." would have her smiling happily. As she waits the question "can I taste it now?" would pop into her chatter more often than one would like to hear, setting it right up there with "Are we there yet?"

Here is my darling glowing at the sight of the cookies she helped make. I think she may just develop a passion for the culinary arts herself.

As much as I love her helping out, sometimes I just want to be alone with my thoughts and ingredients. Baking and creating is my door out of the ordinary. Call me selfish but at times I just want it all to myself. It really is one of my only"me times." That's mainly why I bake at night. But for fun little small treats like cookies and brownines or cakes for the family, that's the day time stuff for me and my little chef.