Like the swirls of snowflakes out my window, a cloud of flour floated through my kitchen. Oh boy, I thought, here we go. Remember your intention.
“What’s next?” asked my 8 year old son.
“3/4 tsp. of cinnamon.”
“I’ll get it,” he said, measuring a heaping teaspoonful of. . .
“Can I do the egg?” he asked. “I’m really good at that.”
Patience, I thought, patience.
“Woops! Eeew, Hope likes raw egg. That’s really gross.” (Hope is our dog)
With all of the ingredients finally in the bowl, the gingerbread was ready for stirring.
“I’ll do it,” he offered.
And so, he stirred. . .
and he stirred. . .
and he stirred some more.
“That should be good,” I said.
“But I don’t want to stop stirring.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because that will mean we are done, and this was really fun.”
That was exactly the recipe I intended. 🙂
Biting into the warm spicy gingerbread, dripping with lemon glaze, I said, “Mmmm, that’s good.”
“Really good, Mom. Really, really good.”
If you would like to try this recipe, see my previous post Tea Time. https://peacockprairie.wordpress.com/2015/11/06/tea-time/