in the tradition

I loved Sunday mornings growing up because my mom always made something special for breakfast. Something baked. Something gooey. Something so yummy that it screamed "SABBATH!" and "CELEBRATE!" How she did this consistently with three children I do not know, but Saturday was always baking day and I got to be like her last night!

Saturday night Jonathan played in a coffee house concert with a couple friends from the seminary.

I could not find a babysitter. So Charlie and I sadly kissed him good bye that afternoon and I looked forward to a long lonely evening with just the two of us. I was racking my brain to think what we could do, what would amuse me as much as THIS was amusing him,

what could possibly redeem the evening. And right before his bedtime I hit on it.... "CINNAMON ROLLS!"

So I quickly pulled out my Domestic Goddess cookbook--it has a divine recipe for Norwegian Cinnamon Buns--and Charlie and I threw the ingredients into the mixer.
(We thought about adding his foot and fingers several times, but in the end, decided against it.


A most prudent decision on his part, I think.)

While the dough rose, Charlie and I nursed, read Hurry Hurry, Clip Clop and a book on wild animals. I sang Jesus Loves Me in the dark and then kissed him soundly and put him in bed.

At which point the real fun began.








I love baking!


ps....I may or may not have waited until Sunday to eat one!