Beaumont: So let me get this straight. Since Covid isolation started you’ve gone through almost 25 kilos of flour.
Me: Yup. Amazing isn’t it.
Beau: I think it’s rather selfish.
Me: Selfish? How so?
Beau: What have you been baking Louise?
Me: Ummm…. Bread. Cookies. Muffins. Foccacia. Pies. More cookies. More bread.
Beau: Hmmm… I see. Notice anything missing in that list?
Me: Well I’m sure there’s something missing Beau. There’s always more that can be created when spending time in the kitchen.
Beau: That’s for sure.
Me: Okay. I have to ask again. How is baking selfish.
Beau: Have you baked anything for me?
Me: Oh. No.
Beau: See. There you have it. You answered your own question.
Me: But I share my baking with family and friends. Doesn’t that count?
Beau: Louise. Louise. Louise. Am I not your best friend?
Me: Of the four legged variety, yes.
Beau: Either I’m your best friend or not Louise. What’s it gonna be. Yes. or No?
Me: Man you drive a hard bargain.
Beau: Woman. You drive me out of my dawgie mind with your lack of consideration for my feelings. Not to mention my needs. I need cookies. Real good dawgie cookies. I would think after spending almost two months in the kitchen, you’d have figured out something you could bake for me.
Me: I hadn’t thought of it.
Beau: My point exactly! You haven’t thought of me. Your best friend.
Me: (sighing) Point taken. I’ll go whip you up some cookies right now.
Beau: There you go being all hooman again. It’s not about ‘whipping something up’. It’s about embuing whatever you’re creating with love through giving it your total care and attention.
Me: Fine Beau. I’ll go put some care and attention into making you some cookies.
Beau: You know Love has its own unique taste. Right?
Me: Oh really. (sarcasm dripping) How sweet.
Beau: Please Louise. Leave the humour to the professionals. You’re not that funny.
Me: I kind of thought I was. You gotta admit… Love is sweet. Get it… You say, Love has its….
Beau: (interrupting me mid-sentence) The fact is Louise, you are correct. Love is sweet. Sarcasm, especially when you try to disguise it as humour, tastes bitter to both the giver and the receiver.
Me: (sighing heavily) Fine. I’ll go bake you some cookies and imbue them with my love.
Beau: And you’ll leave the sarcasm out?
Me: Yes. Beau. I’ll leave the sarcasm out.
Beau: It’s for your own good Louise. Research shows, a heavy diet of sarcasm causes wrinkles. And we both know you don’t want more of those.
Me: You can stop now Beau. I get the point.
Beau: Okay. Just trying to look out for you, my friend. (smiling ever so sweetly) Now go bake me some doggie biscuits. And don’t forget to make them extra sweet.
Sigh. And so off I go to bake Beau some biscuits. I know he’s got a point. I could have thought about him too with all my baking. But seriously… did he have to bring up the bit about the wrinkles?
Sigh. Score another one for Beau.