bread

The other day I was craving homemade baked bread. I was also craving the smell of homemade baked bread. Growing up my mom and I had an old wooden table as an island in our kitchen that we would bake bread on. It was our ritual. The smell always reminds me of those good days. It's now time to begin the tradition with my own daughter. Coincidentally, she loved it. I measured everything out beforehand so all I had to do was help her pour the ingredients in and stir. Stirring wasn't that successful because in her excitement of me handing her the wooden spoon, she threw the flour straight up in the ceiling. She couldn't contain herself! I dont blame her. It didn't take long for her to catch on....she watched in amazement as I punched it and kneaded it and slammed it over and over again on the counter. A slow smile crept over her face and she let go and did the same. I had hesitations about letting my year and a half year old help me bake, but it was such a great experience. Heck, so good we baked sugar cookies together the following week.