I asked Owen this morning if he knew who won the Super Bowl and he nodded. “Who was it?” I asked, expecting him to name Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco, the only football player who he knows by name. “Mama,” he said, proudly. So congratulations to Mama for winning Super Bowl XLVII.
Actually this is exactly the kind of thing he’d say – a little silly, but also generous. For someone who is not quite two, O has a very strong appreciation of the other beings around him. He likes to share his food, for example, even if he’s still hungry. At the library he likes to wave at the other kids and the employees, and when we were putting up our Christmas tree he wouldn’t let anyone hang up animal ornaments until he’d given them kisses.
But this week he outdid even himself: most nights Owen falls asleep in his crib, with Sonya or me sitting in a recliner nearby. Usually we just read as he puts himself to sleep, but some nights he’ll point at a corner where I keep a few musical instruments and say “guitar? guitar?” So I play him a few songs until he dozes off. It’s pretty much the only musical practice I get, and he finds it calming, so it’s win win. Well, one night this week he asked for a song and I picked up the guitar and played him a tune. And instead of the usual “more? more?” that I get when I finish a song, I got… applause. He was laying in his crib, half-asleep, and made a point to clap for each song i played.
Well, you can imagine how good that felt. I bet Sonya felt just as good when she won the Super Bowl.[hr class=’bottom-2_4em’]
Speaking of the big game, I decided this year to use the football feeding frenzy as a chance to try some new recipes. I’m reading a gigantic cookbook-cum-textbook about baking and so I decided to try a new pizza crust recipe that uses very little yeast and very little water – it gets most of the moisture from olive oil, and compensates for the small yeast content by taking four hours to rise. It turned out so well that I don’t have a picture to show you, because we ate the entire thing. Perfect consistency – not doughy-tasting at all, and while it stayed thin it didn’t turn to mush when I added the sauce and toppings. Needless to say I’m going to try out the rest of the book’s recommendations very soon.
The other Super Bowl success story was a dip known as Almond Joy Butter. I say “success” in that it was greatly enjoyed, though I think I managed to burn out my stick blender while making it. Because of that, and because of this dip’s addictive qualities, I do not recommend making it under any circumstances. You’ll just eat the whole thing in one sitting like we did. This morning, as we ran late to head out of the house, I handed Sonya a spoonful. “No, no!” she said, acquiescing only because she hadn’t had breakfast and needed to eat something before leaving for work. But I caught her taking another spoonful out of the fridge before she left. I guess singlehandedly winning a Super Bowl makes a gal hungry.