Descriptive Essay: Mixing Mix Up

“Mixing Mix Up”
My grandma’s kitchen smelled of warm chocolate chip cookies and cold milk. It was my favorite day of the week, Wednesday. After school, once a week, my older sister Alexis and I went to my grandma’s house to bake. As we walked through the door we had no idea that this Wednesday would be different from all the rest. “Great job girls!” my grandma exclaimed as she put the first batch of chocolate chip cookies into the oven. “You did so well that you can start the next batch all by yourselves, while I go to the bathroom.” My sister and I looked at each other with wide, excited eyes. All by ourselves!
We started by making and mixing the dough. I allowed Alexis to mix first, but after a while got anxious.
“It's my turn to mix!” I cried. She agreed reluctantly, not wanting to start an
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“TURN IT OFF!” Alexis shrieked.
“I can’t!” I had absolutely no idea how to work the thing.
Her hair was completely twirled up, and the mixer wouldn't stop spinning. I was completely panicked, but at the same time I was unsuccessfully trying not to crack up. My grandma came swiftly down the hall and into the kitchen and started hollering. She ripped the mixer out of my hand, killing the noise. Alexis, with tears in her eyes, watched helplessly as my grandma chopped the long locks away from the beater, leaving a hole the size of a quarter in her hair. I stood back, desperately holding back my psychotic giggles.
My sister blamed me for the incident and if I brought it up to her today, she would probably still be angry, after all, it was my fault since I did not turn off the mixer. With that said, yes I agree I played a role, but she was the one leaning in too close. I suppose the moral of the story should be pay more attention to what you are doing, but secretly, I think you should never let your hair get in the way when your sister is trying to bake

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