JW vs. baking

I planned to make a piña colada cake this weekend, but didn't get to it. Sunday night, the butter was still out on the counter and we still had fresh pineapple and an opened can of coconut cream to use up. "I can make it during the day on Monday," suggested JW. "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I can bake," he said. "Why not?"

On Monday, over the space of about an hour and a half, I got five emails from him asking about what equipment and ingredients he should use and where to find them. Finally I called to see how he was doing. He said he was killing time until the eggs came to room temperature. "Are you regretting volunteering for this?" I asked.

He replied, "I thought I could put a bunch of things in a thing, but I forgot baking is terrible and I hate it. So... no, I'm not regretting it at all."

He called me again five minutes later to ask which mixer attachment to use and whether to beat the eggs before adding them. "Okay," he said. "I'm going to do it. This is going to happen. I'm turning it on. This is happening."

I think my position as the family baker is secure.

P.S. - Two more emails and three texts later, the cake was delicious. He may hate baking, but unlike me, the man can follow a recipe.

K was confused at first when he learned that Daddy made the cake. "You're the baker," he said to me. After he tried the cake, he pointed to each of us in turn and said, "You're a baker, you're a baker, and I'm the baby tackler." (Baby tackling is K and X's new favorite activity, and probably the first one they mutually enjoy.)