I made pizza with my children this morning. Both kids stood in the learning tower and my oldest helps me dump the ingredients into the bowl. We count the number of cups and spoons that go in, but she has no idea what she’s counting. I’m the one doing mental math to convert 1 1/2 cups into 3 half cups. To save on dishes later, you know.
She used to do this by herself with me while he napped, but today, it worked out to where he was awake. He did not help much, but every now and then he’d grab the sheet pan or pat the dough or peer down the side of the bowl to see what was inside. Every time he saw his sister drop a spoonful of powdery material into the bowl he’d giggle. I make it sound a lot more relaxing and enjoyable from the parent perspective, but trust me, there was a lot of panic and anxiety, too.
When we were putting on the sauce and toppings, all he wanted to do was grab the cheese and eat it. So that’s what he did.
Once the pizzas were in the oven baking, I started to clean up a bit and that’s when it hit me.
I forgot the yeast.
When I was rolling the dough I noticed it felt stiffer, less workable. I remember thinking to myself, wow, I thought this recipe normally needed more flour, now I feel like I put the right amount and I need more water. Well, unfortunately for me, it was already all rolled out, topped, and in the oven baking when I realized. So we ate some unleavened pizza.
In the evening during our bedtime routine, I saw two geckos by our front door. I told my husband in Chinese to get them and he later walked in holding both geckos. I'm impressed by his ever increasing Chinese comprehension!
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| Strangely cute. |
And that's how a typical day in our household goes. Not mentioned: the insanely messy kitchen, books strewn across the floor, scattered toys, and the number of times I had to bribe my kids to eat a bite of food.
Happy Tuesday!
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