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Pizza Playdate!
We had a pizza playdate yesterday. It’s a great idea. You’ll have to hit Jen up for the pizza dough recipe but I’m sure it’s easy. We just showed up when the dough was ready to punch down (my favorite part) and play with but I don’t think it’s hard to do. At least I hope not because I’m thinking I might cook this for dinner some time soon.
Baby Bug and Audrey always get along so it doesn’t really matter what they do but watching them play with the dough was really fun. “More flour!” they kept asking. Two-year-olds are so zen. They could care less about the end result, it was all about the feeling of sticky dough and silky dry flour. Squish, squish, squish—it was better than play dough.
After enough fluffing and patting and playing pat-a-cake, the dough was ready for toppings. They both ate enough cheese during that step that they weren’t hungry to eat lunch later. But then I’m used to that whole routine. Baby Bug seems to be on an every-other-day hunger strike as it is. I’m just glad she snacked on cheese and not her usual food of choice—gummy fruit snacks.
It was delicious! I know because I ate Baby Bug’s portion and my portion. I really need to stop doing that.
All in all, it was a fun play date. I dare you to look into these eyes and disagree.
p.s. Here’s Jen’s recipe!
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I don’t eat doughnuts
Bethany and I have a list of adventures. Every time we get together, we try to cross one item off the list. I know, tough life. Why can’t you be less full of fun? I could go on and on about the woes of stay-at-home-mommedness and how I would kill for some good old water-cooler chit-chat about something besides my latest saga over disciplining my child…or I could just talk about the perks.
Perks are better. At least for me today. Some days I need to go on and on about how so very hard it is. But not today. Today was SUPER FUN! We had some doughnuts! It was on our list.
Bethany is convinced that hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts are a zillion times better than regular old room-temperature ones. I don’t think this could make that much of a difference. Aren’t Krispy Kreme doughuts made of crack anyway? Could they get that much better? How much more could your taste buds fire off alarm signals of pleasure to your brain? I need to be convinced with actual proof.
This poses a dilemma since I don’t really eat doughnuts. They are off-limits. I am Uma Thurman in The Truth About Cats and Dogs except I’m not a model and I’m not skinny and my weakness is doughnuts not cake. Also, I’m totally lying. I do eat doughnuts. I’m just working on the not-eating-them part.
I burn thousands of imaginary calories just thinking about not eating them. It’s a battle up there in my head. If only there were some physical activity to go along with the mental activity because then I would be super-skinny and I could eat all the doughnuts I ever wanted. Hmmm…that’s kind of a circular argument…
Anyway, as I was telling Bethany today, I wish I didn’t spend so much mental time on this. How much smarter would I be if my brain could use that space for something else? I’d probably be a lot better at math.
(photo totally caught by Bethany)So yeah, I do eat doughnuts. I love them. Apple fritters to be exact. I was born with that gene. (Mutter, mutter, bad word, mutter, mutter…) But today we didn’t get to test Bethany’s theory. We did test some doughnuts (How could we not? We drove all that way!!!) but they weren’t hot. The light in the window was off and the assembly line was empty. It was still fascinating to look at. I love touring factories.
The kids thought it was great fun and then five seconds later the sugar hit their blood and they turned into wild maniacs. It was amazing. I have never seen the night-and-day difference a pop of sugar will do to a kid quite like that before. One minute they were sitting there sipping their milks with glazed looks in their eyes and the next they were bouncing off the walls like Nerf balls.
It was very bizarre. Like I said, Krispy Kreme doughnuts are made with crack. I’m sure of it. I’m checking us both into rehab tomorrow morning.
