In the midst of chaos, there are things that are very right in my world. One of them happened last night. I was baking bread for dinner when my small son walked over and asked what that lump of stuff on the bread board was. I explained that it was bread before it was baked. He tasted it, and wanted to help. So we did that. He got his step stool (the one with his name painted on it), climbed up, and helped me knead. Then I cut it into small pieces, and he rolled and squished them into something sort of like balls and put them on the cookie sheet. Perfectly shaped rolls are highly overrated, I can tell you.
It?s a little thing. Baking with children is one of those things that a lot of people kind of take for granted. But it?s not a little thing for my kid. Odd textures disturb him. He won?t fingerpaint, for example. He wouldn?t use play-doh until recently. He fights his occupational therapist every time she tries to get him to manipulate some new substance. And yet there he was, exited and enthusiastic, helping me bake bread in every way I could let him, dough all over both his hands. He fell asleep before they came out of the oven, but took one in his lunchbox today so he could show his teachers the rolls he made. He?s proud of himself, and he knows I?m proud of him. And when he saw how many had been eaten at dinner, he commented that ?they were really good, weren?t they Mommy?? I told him yes, they were wonderful. His smile just glowed.