Bread and Therapy…

I asked my daughter if she wanted to help make some bread yesterday evening. I thought it would be a chance to have a chat about one or two things (she is fourteen and pushing the boundaries!!!) She said yes. I had to pick myself up off the floor. So there we were chatting away, taking it in turns to knead the dough, when she asked me why we bothered to make bread?

Why didn’t we just buy it from the supermarket like other people did? (She was going to say normal but decided against it, wise girl that she is.)

I explained that its better for you, that it tastes better, that its fun to make.

She wasn’t convinced. I really miss normal bread she said. Nice sliced white bread, its so fluffy and light……

I stopped listening. I concentrated on kneading the dough. Its very theraputic is kneading a piece of dough, especially when you are feeling a bit irritated!

2 thoughts on “

  1. Ah, but what she’ll REMEMBER, years from now, is that her dad made homemade bread. When she’s out on her own, or doing things for her own family, she’ll think back about the homemade bread and realize what a gift it was.

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