Isn't He Dreamy?

I love that it is no unusual circumstance to walk into the kitchen in my home and find that my husband has, once again, outshone me in the culinary department. Although I am reasonably proficient in the kitchen, baking is not my strong suit. Not because I can't do it, it just doesn't occur to me to do so. You see, I grew up in a family where desserts were typically only served on birthdays or major religious holidays (of course, birthdays were by no means an infrequent occurrence in our household of [insert large number here] children). These muffins were just a Saturday impulse of Jessie's from a few weeks ago. Even though he has comparitively limited experience in the kitchen, he's not afraid to get his hands dirty, um, in the mixing bowl. I wish I had a picture of the puffed pancake I found when I finally stumbled out of our bedroom on Sunday morning after a night of quality time with Ingrid and my allergies. It was almost as puffy as my eyes. Jessie nearly always makes breakfast before church on Sunday mornings - and its hardly ever oatmeal. Isn't he dreamy?