Yeah, that's it!

So I decided that I needed to reassert my prowess in the kitchen. Cyndie rocks the kitchen, and loves it so much, and with our schedules, responsibilities, Church Callings, Work requirements, I cook rarely, if ever. In fact, Cyndie is reminding me that the word I am looking for may in fact be spelled P-O-W-E-R-L-E-S-S-N-E-S-S.

The idea was that I could do something with the boys, teach them a skill, spend time together, and make sure they know that food doesn't just magically appear. Not to mention that since I don't cook too much, I don't want them to get any crazy stereotypes about dads not being in the kitchen.

When Sunday arrived, I committed that this was going to be the day. To use a good Argentine phrase, we were going to make bread "sí ó sí"(literally "yes or yes" meaning no other options, roughly equivalent to American English's "come he## or high-water", edited-this being a family blog). After being in meetings all morning, having Church from 1-4, ending up on the stand during Sacrament Meeting (the Bishop and Second Counselor were away, and the First Counselor asked me to join him, making me "the substitute Bishop" according to Tate"), eating dinner, and cleaning up, I was ready.

The boys and I got the ingredients, some mixing and measuring tools, and got to work. The yeast performed remarkably. The flour mixed perfectly. The sugar and eggs blended exquisitely. It was everything I had hoped for. We were all excited until we realized it was about 7 pm and read that the directions called for letting the dough raise for 3 hours, pounding it (Tate and Dane's favorite part), splitting it, putting it in pans, and letting it raise for another 90 minutes. I did the quick math and realized that we'd be up until midnight if we followed those plans. Time to call in the reinforcements!

"Mom, we need your heelllp! Dad really screwed up this time!" the boys called out. Laughing, Cyndie sauntered in to the kitchen and proceeded to save the day. We let the dough raise until we went to bed, then let it continue to raise in the fridge overnight. Next day, she and the boys cooked it up. It baked wonderfully!

Prologue

It would seem that Cyndie was right at the beginning at this post: she can spell and and has a better vocabulary than me. But I have to tell you that last night, while Cyndie and I were out on the town, I said that I wanted to make more bread with the boys, and she confessed that when we ate the last of the bread, she was disappointed. So maybe I didn't screw up too badly.