“This… doesn’t seem like it turned out right,” I hesitated, poking at the odd, dry lumps of alleged cookie dough. “Dough” was really an overly generous term for it.
Oliver eyed it suspiciously and shrugged.
I tasted it and grimaced. “Could you try it and tell me what you think?”
Oliver eyed it even more suspiciously and declined. “No thanks. I’m good.”
“But please? Just try it?” There I go, trying to force feed the man I love potentially inedible wanna-be cookie dough.
“I’m really okay.” Oliver insisted. “Anyway I’m going to head to the gym now. Be back in a bit.”
I sighed in exasperation. “I’ll just throw it out then.” All of that preparation for nothing. It was more of a threat than a calm decision.
In order for the threat to function as a threat, it would have had to have been an undesirable thing. Oliver looked relieved and understandably so. “Sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I looked at the sad mixture and decided to glance over the recipe once more before tossing it.
Eggs. What do you know? Turns out cookie dough is a lot more dough-like with eggs in it. I added the eggs and we enjoyed perfectly normal chocolate chip cookies for the week. I don’t know what I was hoping for with Oliver trying the eggless dough except the confirmation that it was indeed disgusting and that I should indeed through it out and soon– yesterday if possible.
Amazing the choices that reveal themselves to us when we let go of our need to control others.