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Jordy pouts and his eyes water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” He staggers back until he runs into the cabinet behind him. “I was . . .” His sentence gets clogged in his throat. His breathing becomes heavy. “I messed up the cookies.”
He’s going to panic.
Mom just smiles and runs her finger across the counter, scooping up a blob. “Hey, it’s okay. A little mess never hurt anyone.” Then, she smears it onto my face.
“Mom! Gross,” I say, blocking her from doing it again.
Jordy covers his mouth.
Mom nudges him and hands him a spatula that she dipped into the mixture. “Go get her.”
My jaw drops. I back away with my hands in front of me. “No. Jordy. Get my mom. It’s her turn anyway.”
Jordy’s eyes sparkle with a glimmer of happiness as he looks down at the spatula. It’s like he’s trying to talk himself into misbehaving. His gaze lifts, and a stroke of mischief shines on his face. He turns quickly, flicking the spatula at Mom.
Mom ducks. Still, the creamed sugar lands in her hair. “But I’m making you cookies.” She grabs the mixing bowl, ready for war.
Jordy darts away, laughing, and hides behind me.
Mom dips her hand into the bowl, bringing out a big blob, and chucks it at us.
I scream, trying to dodge it, but with Jordy holding onto me, it’s impossible. The mixture hits me square in my face. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” I say.
The sack of flour is calling me, and she follows my gaze to it. “No,” she says, lunging for it.
I take hold of it, swiping it away while laughing. She cowers behind the island, lifting the bowl in front of her face like a shield. It doesn’t stop me from raining flour all over her.
Dad’s briefcase falls to the ground with a thud, sending a moment of silence through the house. “What is going on?” he says, walking into the kitchen.
My eyes are concentrated on Dad, and Mom takes that opportunity to smash another handful of the sugar onto my shirt. All of us stare at each other in slow motion until I collapse to my knees, laughing until my stomach hurts. It wasn’t until now that I realized I forgot how good it felt to laugh.
“So, were you still planning on dinner?” Dad asks, in awe of the disastrous crime scene we once called a kitchen. He can’t help but laugh too.
Mom jumps up, shaking out her shirt. “Yes. I just need to take a quick shower first.” She frowns after inspecting her nails. “I smudged them.”
I roll my eyes. “You deserved that.”
She pushes me gently. “Go get the mop.” She sets the mixing bowl in the sink and turns on the faucet to let it start filling up. “We’re going to have to start all over.”
“Phew,” Jordy says, running the back of his hand against his forehead. “For a second I thought I was going to have to go home cookie-less.”
“Don’t worry,” I say as I start to sweep the mess on the floor. “You’ll get some cookies. If they aren’t ready before you leave, I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
Dad rolls up his sleeves and joins the cleaning crew. He chuckles ever so slightly looking over at us again. I smile. This is the Dad I’ve missed so desperately. This is the way he’s supposed to act.
Mom hands him her phone, smiling through her flour face mask. “Take a picture of us before we clean up. I want to remember this.”
He takes the phone by the corners, careful not to get dirty himself. “Okay, you guys need to get closer.”
Jordy and I scoot closer to Mom. She wraps her arms around us, squeezing us tight.
Dad takes a step back. “Say cheese,” he says while turning the phone to get more than one angle. “You three look absurd.”
Mom releases her grip on us and takes her phone back. We all huddle around it and stare at the photo.
Dad’s right. We do look absurd. Everything from Jordy’s goofy smile to the creamed sugar smeared across my face to the bunny ears Mom’s holding above my head screams chaos.
“I’ll send it to you,” she says.
