January 7, 2011

The Kitchen Stool

I don't know if I can adequately convey the endearingly irritating-ness that is Miss and the kitchen stool...but I'm going to try, because it so exactly expresses the prevailing mood in the kitchen any time Miss is in it with us.

So she has this stool:

I should mention, of course, that we bought it before she was born, and its safety features were not considered in light of a toddler falling in love with it.  It folds.  It has "risk of dismemberment" written all over it.  We're going to replace it.

For now though, it's hers.  I brought it out one day in the summer so she could put on her cute little apron and help me "mix and measure" (her words).  I usually keep it in the pantry, but sometimes I forget to put it away, and as soon as I'm in the kitchen, she's on the stool.

She knows the rules: she can't stand on the stool in front of the stove.  But every other piece of counter is fair game, and boy can she move.

If Mr and I are in the kitchen at the same time, she moves that stool back and forth like the paddle in Arkanoid (are my childhood memories betraying my age?).  You remember her helping with the nachos? That's the kind of movement we're talking about.

A two year old moving a stool around constantly is endearing - she's so methodical when she picks it up and places it exactly where she wants it, and climbs up to peer at whatever you're doing with a "what you doing?".

But a two year old moving a stool around constantly (constantly) can get a little irritating.  Especially now that she's figured out the game where you just push it.  Not to a destination, just to push the stool back and forth across the kitchen floor, making a racket.  While we're cooking. 

I can feel an "I love her, but..." coming on.

I love her, but that stool...