A few nights ago I was trying to bake some Amish Friendship bread.... the origin of which is unknown. Apparently some sweet Amish woman was trying to make friends with a citified person and gave her a small sample of dough. This sample has now been duplicated a million times over and plastic ziploc bags of yeasty, fermented gooey dough is being passed around by housewives like crack.
I digress.
According to the directions which came with the dough, I had to finally bake it. Which I could not do without at least one trip to the grocery store to buy pudding mix, which also happened to be on sale so there was none on the shelf. I finally located a store brand and brought it home. Did I also mention I was trying to get the house in order for the in-laws' visit? And it was late? And I was tired and becoming ever more frazzled as the moments passed?
In the midst of the madness "they" walked in.... Lily and Max. "They" wanted to help. "They" do not realize that by "helping" me, they add a good 15 minutes onto my already tight schedule. Being the firm parent that I am, I completely caved and let them help, by stirring. Elise was in the kitchen, truly helping, but I was scrambling to add ingrediants, find the proper pans and then find pans that would just have to work. My blood pressure was rising and I felt myself hitting that breaking point.
Then it happened.
I was crouched down, digging into a cabinet for the just-have-to-work pan when Max climbed onto my back. As I turned to snap at him to leave me alone so I could find the stupid pan, I realized that he wasn't really attacking me.
He was hugging me.
And when I turned around, he hugged me harder.
The bread turned out really sweet too.
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