This was a small article I wrote almost thirteen years ago! It was suppose to be part of hair week that didn’t pan out!
Personal safety is one of my top proponents as a parent. Beware of strangers, beware of stray dogs, beware of medicine, be careful of knives, don’t touch, or mix household cleaning products. Don’t do this, don’t do that, but who would have ever thought of the Mixmaster! Yes the mighty Mixmaster wears his name with great furor. The frantic Food Processor seems much more of a threat with blades scathing the bowl feverishly searching for morsels of food to pulverize.
My eight year daughter took great pride in sweeping the kitchen floor, making sure to collect every dust bunny in sight. Often times she’d offer to mash the potatoes for me. I usually declined, fearing for my cloth blinds which spread the length of my counter. I could imagine potato snow splattering off the beater heads onto the floors, counter, and blinds.
This time was different, I had decided it was time for more responsibility, I would risk letting her mash the potatoes with none other than the mighty Mixmaster. Thrilled by my faith in her, she grabbed the handle with both hands, proudly beating to her hearts content.
Here’s how she describes the next few moments, “ I’m beating along, when I see this little black thing in my hair, I take one hand off the beater when Buda boom Buda bing, the Mixmaster grabbed onto my hair taking it hostage in it’s metal beaters.!”
We can only find humor in the situation now, as this traumatic incident is behind us. My recollection is much more serious, as I daily hide the quarter sized scar on her hairline, desperately waiting for the prickles of hair to show themselves through her bald spot. In her almost nine years, I’ve been able to keep her safe from household calamity. In the only seconds my daughter had beaters snatching her chin length hair, rolling it up onto her head. I pulled the plug the instant I saw it was about to happen. Too late, her hair was tangled and jammed into the beater heads. My husband and I tried frantically to release the beaters from the mixer, as I our daughter screamed in pain “Cut my hair out, cut my hair out!” I was ready to call 911when my husband pried the beater out with a knife as I held the release button on the Mixmaster.
I cradled her in my arms with a blanket, watching for signs of shock. My husbands face and lips turned white as he pondered what the ramification might have been, had we not acted so diligently!
Within half an hour she was asking for dinner. I salvaged the mashed potatoes, which were hair free! Nobody dared to mention lumps that meal, although they were quite apparent the next day. A small one on her forehead and a large one on her hairline. Now recovered, she wants to mash the potatoes the old fashioned way!
Coming into quite a heavy baking season I can’t help but remind parent that its’ all find and dandy to have children bake with you, but please tie their hair back, and beware of the beaters!
The codicil to this article is that Pepper didn’t touch the beaters until high school when she was forced to bake for home economics! She has however found reprieve from her phobia and will bake cupcakes and cookies on occasion!
Personal safety is one of my top proponents as a parent. Beware of strangers, beware of stray dogs, beware of medicine, be careful of knives, don’t touch, or mix household cleaning products. Don’t do this, don’t do that, but who would have ever thought of the Mixmaster! Yes the mighty Mixmaster wears his name with great furor. The frantic Food Processor seems much more of a threat with blades scathing the bowl feverishly searching for morsels of food to pulverize.
My eight year daughter took great pride in sweeping the kitchen floor, making sure to collect every dust bunny in sight. Often times she’d offer to mash the potatoes for me. I usually declined, fearing for my cloth blinds which spread the length of my counter. I could imagine potato snow splattering off the beater heads onto the floors, counter, and blinds.
This time was different, I had decided it was time for more responsibility, I would risk letting her mash the potatoes with none other than the mighty Mixmaster. Thrilled by my faith in her, she grabbed the handle with both hands, proudly beating to her hearts content.
Here’s how she describes the next few moments, “ I’m beating along, when I see this little black thing in my hair, I take one hand off the beater when Buda boom Buda bing, the Mixmaster grabbed onto my hair taking it hostage in it’s metal beaters.!”
We can only find humor in the situation now, as this traumatic incident is behind us. My recollection is much more serious, as I daily hide the quarter sized scar on her hairline, desperately waiting for the prickles of hair to show themselves through her bald spot. In her almost nine years, I’ve been able to keep her safe from household calamity. In the only seconds my daughter had beaters snatching her chin length hair, rolling it up onto her head. I pulled the plug the instant I saw it was about to happen. Too late, her hair was tangled and jammed into the beater heads. My husband and I tried frantically to release the beaters from the mixer, as I our daughter screamed in pain “Cut my hair out, cut my hair out!” I was ready to call 911when my husband pried the beater out with a knife as I held the release button on the Mixmaster.
I cradled her in my arms with a blanket, watching for signs of shock. My husbands face and lips turned white as he pondered what the ramification might have been, had we not acted so diligently!
Within half an hour she was asking for dinner. I salvaged the mashed potatoes, which were hair free! Nobody dared to mention lumps that meal, although they were quite apparent the next day. A small one on her forehead and a large one on her hairline. Now recovered, she wants to mash the potatoes the old fashioned way!
Coming into quite a heavy baking season I can’t help but remind parent that its’ all find and dandy to have children bake with you, but please tie their hair back, and beware of the beaters!
The codicil to this article is that Pepper didn’t touch the beaters until high school when she was forced to bake for home economics! She has however found reprieve from her phobia and will bake cupcakes and cookies on occasion!
