Needed: More Hungry Boys

The Ice loves to cook. This weekend he wanted to make biscuits, a favorite for us. I requested a double batch, since the single barely makes it around the table in our family. The Ice has never made a double batch of anything before, so we talked about careful measurements and keeping track. He waved me out of the kitchen, preheated the oven, and happily began.

Ten minutes later I heard a plaintive “Mom, this isn’t right.” Oh boy.

“Did you put in each ingredient twice?” I asked.

“Yeeee-ah,” he responded slowly, “but something’s wrong with it. It isn’t supposed to look like this.”

I peered in to see a soupy mess in the bowl. A whole lot of soupy mess. Yikes.

We ran the check together. “Did you measure the Bisquick in twice?”

He had.

“Did you measure the milk in twice? Two-thirds of a cup, two times?”

He nodded, pointing to the measuring cup as proof. Ahh.

We have a four-cup measuring cup. Since the first measurement on the cup is a giant “1” I knew exactly what had happened. He had measured one and two thirds of a cup in. Twice. Which equals soup.

I shook the Bisquick box — still heavy. “I just loooove biscuits,” I told him jauntily, and dumped in the rest of the box. Well, I do.

We had five batches of biscuits for dinner. They were very good, they were. If you were here, we would share them with you. And send some home with you, too. Some for your neighbors as well.

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