Five year old Mia poked a bamboo stick. "... Jay this isn't fun."
Eleven year old Jay let out a withering sigh, closing his book. " Well then, what DO you want to do which is fun?"
Mia thought for a moment.
"Bake."
Jay raised a brow. " Kid, last time we baked-"
"Bake with me. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"
Jay groaned dramatically, flopping back on the grass like the world had just ended. "Miaaa... I'm eleven. I have responsibilities. I'm practically a grown-up."
Mia blinked. "You still wet the bed last month."
Jay bolted upright. "That was ONE TIME and it was a nightmare about sentient pancakes!"
Mia grinned cheekily, tilting her head. "Soooo... bake with me?"
Jay squinted at her, as if staring long enough would make her disappear. But of course, she didn't. She only got closer. And more sparkly-eyed. And more dangerously cute.
"...Fine," he muttered, standing up and brushing off his pants. "But if you dump flour on my head again, I'm writing you out of my will."
"I'm five, what's a will?"
"You'll find out when you're older."
"I'm already older. I'm five and a half."
Jay rolled his eyes. "Great. So you'll be baking and being a smart aleck today."
Mia skipped ahead toward the kitchen, humming happily. "Yaaaaaaay! We're gonna make cookies and you're gonna love them!"
Jay followed behind, mumbling, "I'm gonna love scrubbing batter off the ceiling again, more like..."
And thus began the Great Kitchen Chaos: Round Four.
