Tonight mine would tell you that when I'm home alone baking I blast music from the stereo in the kitchen and dance like fool all around the room.
He would tell you that when it gets to the loudest part of a song I lean down and sing loudly in his face to share the moment with him. He would also want you to know how much this confuses him.
He would tell you that when I start to get warm from the oven being on I stick my face at the precise angle necessary to steal some of the cool, country breeze coming from the window facing the field. He would tell you the breeze blows and makes the wisps of my hair that have fallen out of my ponytail dance around my face and that I look very much like a dog hanging out a car window.
He would probably tell you that nights when I'm baking are some of his favorite nights because while all this dancing and singing and face in the breeze is happening I am carrying around a spoon in my hand covered in sugary goodness. He would tell you I get a little clumsy with this sugary goodness at times and that usually means I fling some chocolate or dough or sugary batter onto his face.
He would tell you he does not mind this a bit.
