Making Pizza

Dan and I sometimes talk about the way our children view the world. We think it's funny that Zoe thinks NOT having a bus stop in front of your house is weird. Zoe's pre-school class is much more colourful than either of ours would have been. An evening ambulance roaring by would not disturb their sleep. On any given day, you could wake up to a new handmade crocheted stuffed heart in your toy box. And Sunday afternoons are for making pizza.

Shaping the dough.

Zoe takes her job very seriously.

Spreading the sauce.

The thing I love about this picture is that it is a brief moment when he appears to be really responsible and helpful. Like, "Oh yeah, I'm 18 months old (this picture is a little old) and I spread the sauce on the pizza." Like he hadn't just finished crying about me telling him not to eat the dough and that two seconds later he didn't freak out after I took the pizzas away to bake them (and because he was messing in the sauce with his hands).

The flour covered table post-dough.

The big pizzas (mommy's & daddy's) waiting to go in for their first bake.

Simon enjoying his fully cooked pizza.

Baked and bubbly.