The crime: Taking a baby out to run errands during nap time
The criminal: His mother
If you do the crime, you do the time. Respect the nap, parents.
I just made something so awesome that I had to stop all other critical projects to talk about this. And by critical, I mean I am facing a collision (to use a Scott word) if I don’t get back to them soon. But anyway, we’re just past the Passover mid-point and I can’t serve the kids (or myself) another piece of buttered matzo. They’re not complaining, but it’s just wrong. So this morning I made Matzo Granola! It was inspired by this Martha Stewart recipe of the same name, but made using whatever I had that didn’t require a trip to the store. That’s how a lot of my recipes go. I don’t always read ahead (or measure) so I often end up short on something, improvise, and cross my fingers. This time, it worked beautifully. Here goes:
3 cups matzo farfel
2 cups assorted nuts (I used peanuts, almonds and walnuts)
3 T butter
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup honey
1 t salt
4 t cinnamon
1 cup assorted dried fruit (I used raisins, blueberries and apricots)
Although not part of Martha’s original plan, I think including the peanuts was kind of genius because every couple of fistfuls tasted like peanut butter granola. As my taster-friend exclaimed: “Every bite tastes different!” I served it with plain greek yogurt and the kids went crazy for it. Leo asked for “mo, mo!” and ate 2 bowls! If matzo had any nutritional value, I would say we’re eating this all year. But instead, just substitute oats when the time is right and it could be a teensy bit more agreeable to your digestive system. Yum!
This is my boy! My sweet, handsome, thoughtful, brilliant, serious, old-soul little 5-year-old man. That’s all I’m going to say. I’m just going to let these adorable pictures speak for themselves. OK, I’m going to say a little more because I am totally incapable of shutting up that easily. Evan is now a Hilltop Cherokee t-ball player and I am a proud t-ball mama!
Evan is still a little unclear on the actual rules of baseball. To be honest, so am I, so I act like I can’t quite hear him when he asks me questions about it. “Um, wha? Go find daddy.” But then he tells people “I won the game! I had 4 points!” and we have to straighten out his baseball vocab so he doesn’t sound nuts. I think the point of t-ball is to get them excited about a team sport, not show them off to scouts, so we don’t worry about it too much. We just smile and go along with his delusions of what really constitutes a home run for now. To make it even more confusing, t-ball doesn’t even seem to have any particular rules. Just swing, run, stop when we’re done. When Evan was on first base, the next kid up to bat hit the ball and he helped chase it down instead of running to second. Honest mistake. Just trying to help the (other) team! They all look a little confused out there but their total cuteness as a swarming mass of precious little pint-sized orange-capped heads makes up for it. All they know is hit the ball, chase the ball, and pretzels are free after a game.