I hear his voice coming from the kitchen. “Pease. Helpa, helpa.” I consider that maybe teaching him these sweet words, convincing words, may be backfiring. Reluctantly I leave my warm cup of coffee next to my cozy spot on the couch and round the corner into the kitchen.
Grayson’s big blue eyes look up at me. He has already retrieved a cake pan from the cupboard and stands waiting. “Pease.” He points. Flashes of my little monster running through the house with a spoon half the length of his body gives me pause. But another blue-eyed look and exaggerated point causes to me to cave.
I settle back into my cozy spot and my little chef brings over a cake pan filled with trains, helicopters, and colorful magnets. We stir the pot together. Chef today, drummer tomorrow. We take bites of our imaginary masterpiece and giggle in the morning light.