I may have a small perfectionism problem. And a discipline problem. And, most recently, a baking problem.

Most Fridays, I join another mom to lead a group of eight six-year-olds in a cooking class. I’m very organized about this. I print the recipe for the teacher, I gather the ingredients, and I show up on time. And then things go awry. I am somewhat incapable of controlling my half of the eight kids. A few times each lesson, the other mom (who has magical powers) has to lean over to my group and make them all sit down and listen.

To make matters worse, last week’s recipe turned into perfectly plump Chocolate Thumbprint Cookies on the other table, and little piles of poo on my table.

The kids didn’t care, of course. Chocolate is chocolate. But I took myself home and tried the recipe again.

You’ll be happy to know that once in my own kitchen, without the distraction of rambunctious first graders, I did not make little piles of poo.

No. I made BIG piles of poo.

But they do taste good.