As a child, I loved to make biscuits and cup cakes with my mother. My brothers and I would always argue over who would lick the bowl, the beaters, or the wooden spoon. If we missed out after making the batter, there was always the icing.
Our work in the oven, Mum's yellow timer set, we would haunt the kitchen, drawn by the wondrous odours from the oven.
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