So, I don't know how many of these I will actually remember to do, but every once in a while I think of something and how I really should document it. Like yesterday. I heard a train whistle about 3 or 4 times yesterday. We live in town, but don't often have trains come through. It reminded me, though, of Grandma Bake's house. They lived a few blocks from the tracks. We would hear trains going through quite a few times a day. Sometimes we would spend some time setting our pennies on the tracks and coming back later to see if they'd been flattened. We could never find them again. Even just a few years ago, at a family reunion there, Ben was nowhere to be found. He had joined a bunch of other "cousins" on the sidewalk to watch the train go by. He also pointed out the train whistle yesterday.
Another remembrance I had yesterday occurred when I was mixing bread dough. Sarah joined me on her stool. I hate the part where you actually have to get your hands dirty, but she was more than ready to join in. I was a meany and said no. But, as I mixed she kept asking me if she could eat the dough off my fingers. My mom baked bread every week. I envied those kids who had boughten white bread. She would bake at least 6 loaves a week (I'm not sure that was enough as we got older - she may have had to bake more than once. But, she did it when we were out.) I remember eating bread for our snack after school. And on the days she baked, we'd often eat a whole loaf! Anyway, when we were younger I also remember eating the dough off her fingers. Later, I asked her if that was gross - having us suck on her fingers. She said she didn't really think about it. And yesterday, as Sarah bit dough off my fingers, I realized that even if it is kind of gross, it's also an act of love. So, thanks mom, for all the bread!
S'moresey Ice Cream Cake
6 years ago