Syd's First Hand at Waffles

(and my waffley hand)

This morning Syd and I were the first ones to arise, so we teamed up to make waffles. She stood next to me on a stool, peering into the mixing bowl. Her excitement grew as she turned upside-down the measuring cups and spoons laden with curious powders and crystals. We were certainly up to something. I was relishing this productive daddy/daughter time, thinking I was a pretty cool dad... yeah... yeah...

The eggs were fun, and the electric beaters magical. The iron hot and ready, I took a metal spoon and scraped the sides as I put the finishing touches on with the beater a whirlin'. I don't know how I let the spoon get caught in the spindles, but the beater sure didn't like it. It began convulsing beyond my control when beeiirrrr!! --OUT shot one of the spindles! and I managed to shut the thing off. Syd was crying. In that split-second episode, waffle batter had sprayed EVERYWHERE within a 6 ft radius (ie. the kitchen), the bulk plastering my poor daughter's face. She'd been machine-gunned with goop. So much for the cool dad.