The Taste of Spring

But oh, my. I was so good. And I must admit to feeling rather virtuous, having gotten in my full quota (and then some) of lines, hiking the 3rd grader up to the ballpark for baseball practice, walking the baby vigorously in the jogger, and then coming home from the diamonds with the three youngest so everyone could shower and sit down and enjoy fresh pie together. Did I mention I also served up made-from-scratch chicken pot pie as well? This is quite rare for me, to be able to spend so much time in the kitchen, especially on a work day, so it was very gratifying and scratched that domestic itch. Please allow me to wallow for a minute.

While I was enjoying my taste of spring, the baby squiggled up onto my lap, begging bites, and then swoosh, took his little patty and swiped a big chunk of my meringue, the little bugger. He plastered it onto his face while his dad stood there laughing instead of running for a wash cloth.

Men. Can’t live without ’em and ya can’t shoot ’em.

The Happy Little Baker