Whenever I ask Mingus what he’s dreamt about, he cheerfully responds, “Chainsaws!”, so it was not much of a surprise when Mingus awoke this morning and declared, “I want to use the mixer with the blades!” That said, it is an act of love when I say “Yes!” It’s a spur of the moment activity with no plan. Fortunately, there are two mangos sitting on the counter, just ripe enough to pulverize.
I tell Mingus we must remove the skin from the fruit and he cuts a slice into each mango. Then, we dig under the skin with our fingers to rip it off.
He cuts the mango flesh into chunks small enough to fit in our little food processor.
With Beluga running around the kitchen, I guard the discarded seed and skin. Chewing on them can trigger unwelcome contact dermatitis – they have the same chemical as poison ivy.
As I bring out the food processor, I am on guard. Mingus takes hold of the power cord and I wonder if I should take it away until he asks, “Mommy, what is the power for the motor?” I am not sure he is listening through my explanation of power plants, electricity, and wires until he wants to confirm, “The electricity is from coal?”
Mingus squeezes the power button and mashes the mango at 1750 rpm.
Beluga wants a turn. I ask Mingus to stabilize the base of the food processor for his brother. Beluga feels complete joy; Mingus is disgruntled. Turns out, using “the mixer with the blades!” is a lot less thrilling if his baby brother can do it too.
Once we pour the mango sauce into a bowl, Mingus waits for further instructions. Beluga, on the other hand, has no inhibitions. He dips his hand into the bowl and slathers orange “paint” across the counter.
It would seem a waste, except for their obvious delight. And they lick up every last drip.