Hiccups and Pizzettes

I am awake.

I am awake because I watched the BBC's latest adaptation of Day of the Triffids (pt 1).

I am awake because I tucked my husband into bed after the show ended. As usual, we had a brief chat about our respective days (he spent his with friends out of town) and something that E did today had us in stitches of laughter.

I subsequently got the hiccups.

"There's a scratching at the window!" B said.

S... Scratching?! Triffids make scratching noises!

I yelped. Loudly. Meanwhile, B dissolved into a paroxysm of laughter, apparently under the impression that he was "curing my hiccups" by scaring me witless. Well, he cured them all right, but now I've got insomnia while he's peacefully drifting off to sleep. I oughta break out the ol' airhorn, but I thought I'd take the higher road and update my blog. (Besides, I don't even have an airhorn.)

So. Since B was away all day, I had to think of something cool for dinner. I settled on Dad's pizza recipe, which I modified slightly to make pizzettes for a certain young gentleman. Quick and easy (as long as you prep the dough and chop the ingredients in advance), they cook in less than 10 minutes.

I used a cupcake tray (oiled) and put dough bases in:


Loaded the bases with some pesto, grated mozzarella, and a bit of (cooked) sausage:


The finished product:


He couldn't wait to eat them, so I had to tear the pizettes into smaller chunks so that they cooled faster.



E's contribution to the cooking process was to drag a large amount of his toys into the kitchen and mix them up among things that he considers toys but which really aren't - like the dustpan and brush, fork, and dirty laundry that he helpfully unloaded from the washing machine. The latter isn't really his fault because I've been letting him help me unload the washing when it's done. It's actually somewhat helpful. But he's not at the stage where I can let him help me cook quite yet. He understands that the oven is hot but all those cool ingredients? They find their way to his gullet instead of into the pot.

So for now, I get this:


And that's all for now. I shall fight the urge to go out into the bitter cold and scratch at the window outside. Instead, I'll brush my teeth and go to sleep. Someone had better be grateful for this in the morning and COOK ME BREAKFAST IN BED. Just sayin'.