Making Bread

A house needs a grandma in it. -Louisa May Alcott

I really love the elderly.  I really truly do.  Somehow old people always make me smile.  My husband has a wonderful grandmother who has come to visit.  She tries desperately to relate to my little children, who run quickly by her, to avoid giving her kisses.  To which she usually will shout rude comments or she "swears to God" that she will not buy them anymore presents next time she comes to visit.
To top it off, my children and her do not speak the same language.  My husband's grandmother is Serbian.  So half of her yells they do not understand.  It is like two worlds desperately trying to meet each other.  This morning began in such a manner with my littlest complaining about his great-grandmother's constant need for morning kisses and a whole show just to get my son to give a kiss....which he quickly turned around and said, "Ha, Ha, I wiped it off."  And great-grandmother teasing him again.
Today I decided to try to make bread.  It is my second time this week...and a couple of days ago...the bread did not quite rise.  First, my little son came to help.  He carefully helped me measure the flour, and sugar and salt.  He was quite excited to be helping make bread.  Then my husband's grandmother came over to watch the process.  Honestly, her eyes were sparkling just the same as my son's as she watched me kneed the dough.  For my son, I am sure that it was "Wow!  a giant ball of playdough!"  But, to grandmother is was a giant ball of memories.  It was amazing to see them both locked into the same experience...and sharing the same joy...
Two worlds met at that point...and you won't believe it....this time, my bread did rise!

So this was my beautiful point....a simple experience...that brought two together.