One day I had to rush upstairs for something and when I came back I found him sitting in a heap of potatoes and onions, a mixing bowl on his head and a scissor in one hand.
“Mama!” he said, with the widest smile.
From that day on, we had the kitchen fenced off and a gate fixed on the side. Much to my son’s disappointment the gate was always kept closed.
This story has been written for the Friday Fictioneers. For details see the link below: