My eyes find the Flash clock on the bedside table the moment I pry my eyes open, smiling widely as I eye the date. There's an extra bounce in my step while I throw on a small pair of denim shorts, and a long sleeved black V-neck shirt, before shuffling to the kitchen.    

My routine for today’s well ingrained in my mind, that I automatically click on the playlist on my phone, before bopping my way across the kitchen. The lyrics sprouting loudly from me as I rustle in a cupboard.

“.. Hold up, no you didn't BOW, BOW! I ain't the chick to walk behind you round town. Just cause you're packin’, packin'.. whoop, down south.. That don't mean I'm ever gonna take it lying down. Baby, ohhh, I'm a machine when I do it..”

My butt bounces more than it needs to, while I sideways shuffle my armful of bowls back over to the island bench, before cluttering them down. Twirling away to the fridge, my hip holds the door while I search for the eggs I know Deacon put back last, and are not in the correct spot now. The words once more being loudly sung along with the song, in my deafening tone deaf voice.

“.. babyyyy, you're the man... but I got the, I got the, I got the power.. You make rain, but I'll make it, I'll make it, I'll make it shower. You should know.. I'm the one who's in control..”

I finally find them as it gets to the best part, my hand holding an imaginary microphone while I cancan kick my way back over to the bench carrying the eggs. I’m a flurry of spirit fingers, oddly looking dance moves, and head flicks while I bounce along to the end of the song, before charging into the next one in the same fashion. I know the recipe off by heart as I’ve made it so often, and barely need to concentrate, freeing my mouth and body up to fully get into the music. Which is something that I need today. My voice bloody loud as I carry on singing.

“.. Tonight we’ll just get drunk. Disturb the peace. Find your hands all over me, and then you bite your lip, whisper and say... We’re going all the way.. Tonighttttt, take me to the other side..”

I’m an array of sassy moves, my hands dragging down, before being flung out to enact the song. Deeply invested in putting on a good performance for my assorted collectables placed around the kitchen. It’s not pretty, but my head bops as I attempt to rap along with the following song, most likely coming out as gibberish to anyone else if they could even hear me.

“.. I had the whole crowd like, oh, shit, that’s right I said it, da da dar, roll like the credits. Two of the best to every edit poetics..”

As soon as I’ve rediscovered and added the bananas into the bowl, I am going to kill Deacon for messing up my system, the wooden spoon becomes my microphone for a moment while I seriously bring out my inner rock star.

“.. So, so whattt, I’m still a rock starrr!! I got my rock moves, and I don’t need you!!.. And guess what, I’m having more fun, now that we’re done, I’m gonna show you tonightttt. I’m alrightttt. I’m just fine, and you’re a tool. Soooo, so what...”

My knees bend slightly while my hips swing to the sides as I mix the last of it, before pouring it into the tin for the oven. Rolling my shoulders as I make a dodgy effort at moon walking, I place the tin carefully on the rack. My foot bumping the door shut once more, and freeing myself up to bounce back over to the island. The happy looking Groot timer set, my head swivels to try and spot the clean bowl that I set aside earlier, before snagging it to bring closer. My hips sway once more along to the music, my head coming to bounce as well, while I belt out the lyrics.

“Stop, wait a minute!... Fill my cup, put some liquor in it. Take a sip, sign the check, Julio, get the stretch!! Ride to Harlem, Hollywood, Jackson, Mississippi. If we show up, we gonna show out, smoother than a fresh jar skippy...... I’m too hot, hot damn...”

It takes me far longer than it should to mix the few ingredients together, and Groot soon joins me in dancing across the bench as he chirps loudly. It looks absolutely perfect, and just like my childhood as I pull it from the oven.

The heavenly smell drifts through out the whole kitchen as I pop it on top of the stove to cool completely, having learnt my lesson long ago about de-tinning it too soon.

This year’s is not becoming a biscuit..

My face breaks out into a smile as I gaze at it, and it’s perfection, the memories floating softly back to me. I only just hear the knock at the door over the music, and butt bounce my way over, freezing as soon as my eyes land on him.

Already knowing, that if his wide grin’s anything to go on, he’s completely heard me through the wall this whole time.

 
    
  
(For anyone interested, 'Brookies Brilliant Boomtastic Beats' playlist is available on Spotify to bop your way through too, for a little extra fun 😊)