Instant Pudding, Lasting Love

Chilled, overflowing lumpy puddings mixed with just a spoon instead of a mixer, thoughtfully topped with fresh raspberries from our garden. Vanilla, cappuccino and stracciatella flavours.

It is 7am. The sun is slow to rise, but I could already hear from my bedroom excited footsteps up and down the stairs several times. "Oh god!" I think to myself, they are already up. It is Saturday, why can't they sleep in like me?!

My sleepiness is forcedly vapourised at once. My antenna is put to work right away. Listening intently on what they are up to but cannot pinpoint what their discussion is about. One thing that I could decode from the tone is, they are extremely pleased and enthusiastic with what they are doing.

Curiosity gets the better of me, I have to expose their secret plans.

So, it is only Enzian and Ludwig who are up, they are working in my kitchen. They are working in my kitchen! I don't like people other than me working in my kitchen. I have great respect for my kitchen. I like my kitchen dry and clean, tidy and oil-free. When someone else uses it, it is sure not going to be the way I want it and that is pretty annoying.

That said, I reminded myself I must allow these children their space and desire to want to make something nice for the family. A pleasant surprise for us. Err.. but the mere sight of them messing around in my kitchen is sure quite difficult to ignore. I certainly cannot share their enthusiasm. All I could think of is the cleaning up later. The fact that they don't clean up to my standard is kind of troubling.

Their intentions are good, and I must not discourage it. I pull myself back from blasting at them. Luckily, my brain is rationale enough at that moment to cushion the would-be scolding to just a tell-off, a stern warning that they must clean up when they are completed with their mission. I know I should have not even done that, on the contrary, display a surprised and happy face, praising them for their fabulous idea. After all, who can expect this from two mischievous 8-year-old boys?

I go back to my bedroom, trying to return to sleep. Of course, it doesn't work anymore. My ears are collecting all kinds of sounds coming from the kitchen. Just let go, just let go. It will be alright. I could hear the good me reassuring the bad me. "OK, OK!" I replied the good me impatiently. Inhale.... exhale.... inhale.... exhale...

Just then, I remember I had promised myself to slow down, stop, pick up a flower and admire it. Isn't it now the time to embrace their thoughtfulness, keep up to my promise?

At breakfast time, we were presented with their delightful work that is literally spilling with goodness. The puddings are sweet to the tongue, but the thoughts that are behind it are even sweeter.

When I let go, I gain more back.

And... my kitchen is still in order.