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Florence was super excited for class today. They got to join the older kids in a cooking class and make something! It wasn't food, he was sad to hear, but it still sounded like a fun day! Better than just sitting around or homework, anyway. The teacher gathered up all the students and he was practically bouncing as they walked down the halls towards the junior class. The whole group spilled inside, and there was a bit of chaos for a moment. Florence took in the room, all the tables and ovens and that lingering smell of food. Some was good, some was bad, but it all increased his excitement.

His teacher got his attention and pointed him to a spot where a junior student was waiting. Florence examined her as he trotted over. She was wearing a pretty purple outfit that Dad would probably have liked, though he might have embellished it more. She looked to be all Grimm, and he found himself marveling at those huge clawed hands. Didn't they make it hard to do stuff? She smiled encouragingly at him as he came over, and Florence almost did bounce those remaining steps.

"Hello," he chirped as soon as he reached the Grimm. "My name's Florence! What'd we do first?"

Florence clambered up onto the chair provided by Laurel and paid attention to what she was saying. He knew a little bit about cooking from watching purple dad, but he wasn't really good at sitting still and paying attention so the finer details had always eluded him. For example when Laurel said they needed a cup of flour, but that the cup they were using only counted as half of that. It was a cup, wasn't it? Why did they need two when she said the recipe called for one? It was weird, but he trusted her judgement.

He bounced a little with excitement and impatience when she handed the cup over to him. He enthusiastically dug into the flour, sending up a small cloud in the process. Using the butter knife to level it caused more flour to go everywhere. Huh, Laurel had made it look so easy, but it was hard to keep the white powder from going all over the place! Florence dumped his slightly untidy half cup into the bowl, cheeks and arms covered in a fine white dusting.

"Now what," he asked, looking to Laurel with bright eyes.

"Okay," Florence said, starting to feel a bit more determined. Pouring the salt into the half cup was a lot like pouring potting soil into a fresh pot, and he'd done that a couple times before that he managed to fill the cup with a minimum of mess. Level it off with the butter knife (which was one of the most fun parts to Florence) and pour it into the pot (which was also pretty fun).

The cream of tartar proved to be more of a challenge. It was a white powder, which was totally weird cause it had cream in the name. Laurel said to use the big spoon, but the jar was sorta tiny. A lot of white powder got everywhere before Florence got the spoon filled and leveled. It made as much mess as the flour! But finally the job was done!

Florence accepted the water with care and poured it into the pot, concentrating hard on not spilling any more of. He put the cup aside and watching Laurel measuring oil into the spoon. It looked super fun, but she made it look just as easy as the flour. Her paws were also much bigger; Florence was sure the oil bottle would give him more trouble than it gave her.

He was instantly distracted when she asked about his favorite color, and he vibrated happily when he saw the bottles of coloring. How was he going to pick just one? He debated about it for a moment, then looked at Laurel. "I like purple, but you don't have a purple one," he said a little sadly. Well blue was always a second choice, he supposed.

Florence watched closely, then picked up the little bottle. He tried to be gentle, but the color wouldn't come out so he squeezed harder. Instantly a stream of red poured out, getting on his fingers and running down his hand. Thankfully some made it into the pan as well. Laurel chuckled and grabbed a paper towel to sponge the color off his hand, but he noticed the color was still there.

"It's not coming off," he said, setting the bottle on the paper towels and poking at the color. It was like his skin had changed colors! He glanced at the pot of liquid and was surprised to see the water was now purple. "Cool," he enthused, hand forgotten for the moment.

Stirring the dough had been easy at first, but as Laurel had warned it got harder and harder. Florence was glad when all the flour was gone, cause his arms were hurting! It was fun to scoop all the dough out and pound it and mush it around though. There were a couple flour bits, which Laurel told him to just mash into the dough. The overall color was a really nice purple, lighter than Mom's but pretty!

Class was over much too soon. Laurel helped him scoop all his dough into a plastic bag, seal it, and then the class regrouped to head back to their classroom. "I had lots of fun," Florence told Laurel. He tossed his arms around her waist in a quick hug. "Thanks! Bye!" he said, then ran to catch up with the rest of his class before he got scolded for falling behind!