looking into my crystal ball, i am starting to think that perhaps thatcher is destined to be either a chef or spice merchant.
this morning when i woke up i walked out into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by the open pot of paprika (complete with the obligatory pile of spillage around it), a spoon covered in paprika and a very happy child sitting in the pile of paprika with paprika all over his face. this is not the first time that master arnold has done this to me. a few months ago it was a whole canister of ground cumin (i swear for the next month, every time i vacuumed the house it smelled like curry), last week it was a salad of white rice, brown rice and cous cous (obviously thatcher had heard that carbs are bad for you…) and of course, who could forget the cayenne pepper fiasco of late last year!
perhaps i should stop fighting his passion and just start doing some cooking with him. hmmm, what shall we cook first?