Noodle and I went for a dinner date to the local pizza restaurant. It was nice and quiet, we chatted about his day at school, and "Mommy, what did you do at your office today?"
My salad arrives with his slice cut in half to create two mini slices and as we ate, we chatted a while more.
Just like that, the sweetest Italian lady appears with a wad of pizza dough, just the right size for those mini 31/2 year old fingers to mold.
"Go ahead", she says, "make a pizza."
Curiously, he asked her "how?"
"Usa your fingers, and make a pizza"
His small chubby little digits get to work, pushing and poking and maneuvering that dough.
Molding the perfect pizza is hard work, you know.
She comes back and asks him, "are you ready for the rest?"
He looks to me for reassurance, "the rest?" he asks, "sure!" (With that there's more look on his face)
She quickly shuffles away and comes back with two small plastic containers, one filled with sauce, the other with perfectly shredded mozzarella, and a spoon.
"Here you go, spread the sauce and sprinkle the cheese, I will be back in a bit."
He immediately gets to work. First the sauce.
Then the cheese.
I asked him if he remembered to add a dash of love. Love always makes everything taste better....He said he did!!
Impressed with his work, she brings it to the big oven. He watches her every move, eyes widen by the second.
Every time the oven opens he gets excited, "there it is, Mom. MOMMY, there is my pizza"
The long awaited final product arrives complete with a box for the masterpiece.
Man, that was fun (for both of us)!
Peace.
Peace.
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