we will beat this thing.

Janie is terror-fied of the hand mixer.

She gets visibly nervous anytime I even open the drawer where it lives.

She is in tears before the beaters are popped into place.



I have a plan.



We made icing for her half-birthday cake.

Chocolate icing.

Just thick and gooey enough to stick to the beaters in the most delicious way.

With her eyes on me, I popped the beaters out and sauntered over to her high chair with them.

Three licks and a lip smack later I offered her a fingertip of the chocolaty goodness, fresh from the wand of mommy, the sugar cane fairy of cupcake hollow.
[do I sound like the tooth fairy's arch enemy or what?]

And, having no fear where sugar is involved, little Jane accepted.

Then I set the other beater, er, wand on her tray, pointed out the icing on it and walked away.

hoo.

rah.


[Uh, mommy? Now about that cake...]


Excellent.
Everything is going according to plan.

Wait, can I say that yet?

Additional confections may be required to be sure.

Yes, excellent.
Everything is going according to plan.

[I said I had a plan.] [I just didn't say what it was.]