I am smiling this very moment.
Call it an exercise.
Practice.
Trying to form a habit.
I want my wrinkles to be smile wrinkles, not frown wrinkles.
But, most of all I want the atmosphere of my home to be joyful. Giddily, gloriously, laughingly, addictively joyful. Perhaps my goal seems unreachable, the bar set too high. After all, it’s an ugly world we live in. It’s a house full of sinners that I live in, and I am the chief. Continue reading
“Mom, I’ll help make dinner! I’m a great cook…honest,” exclaimed my exuberant seven-year-old. “Shepherd pie is my favorite!”
*Sigh*…I really did need help in the kitchen – consistent help – and that comes only one way that I can figure! Yep, train them to cook! So, I said (rather reluctantly) yes. And thus begins the transformation of my kitchen from a sparkly clean place that invites creativity to a dirty, crumbly, greasy…Yuck!
First, Caleb stirred (or…flinged) the burger in the skillet until browned (notice the burger and carrots all over the stove). He stirred in the gravy (and splashed that all over as well).
