Then and Now, the ages in photos

Beren's first egg.
Recently I blew my top. I put dinner on the table - noodles and some kind of sauce. It possibly was something my mother would have put on the table when I was a kid and said, "Slop's on."  

Beren protested, "I don't want sauce on my noodles!" The day had been long, and the refrigerator near empty. There had been the pre-dinner witching hour - the hour in which the demands of little ones come fast, come unreasonable, and come with imperative. 

I'm not one to force feed my child. "Make your own noodles then," I growled. "I caaaan't," wailed this hungry boy. Jared remained silent. "Yes, you can." "I caaaan't!"

"Yes!" I said standing up. "Come with me! Let's choose a pot, and now find a lid that matches. OK, fill it with water. Now, add salt. I'll turn on the stove. Watch and we'll add noodles when the water boils."

Beren whimpered a bit at first. He was uncertain. I was furious, possibly unnecessarily so. In ten minutes he had a bowl of noodles he could dress as he wished, and he did. "You cooked your own noodles. How do they taste?" I asked. "Good," Beren answered. "Good."

Cooking an egg, 2015
 Sneaking a taste of crusty gingerbread 'glue', 2014

Trimming rose hips for syrup, 2013

Sitting on a wooden wine box (covered with a blanket) at the table since my mother was too cheap to by me a hideous, plastic booster seat, 2012

 Intense baby stare, 2011

Arrival, 2010