It has to be said that my day to day life doesn’t often tally up with those cloying tv ads depicting life with preschoolers. Quite often, I am in a state of near collapse…. ”She’s gonna blow!!!”. Those mums on the telly, with their glazed, euphoric expressions are obviously superhuman…or heavily medicated.
That said, today was one of those rare, magical days where everything went well. All kids, and me, on sparkling form. The big one draws me an amazing picture. A rare event I can assure you. Of course there are a few minor fisticuffs over that one particular car that you can’t distinguish from any other but which they are seemingly prepared to fight to the death for. Sigh. You can’t have everything.
We donned wellies and strolled down the canal picking wild garlic. The sun shone, we all smiled and spring was truly in the air. We got home for lunch and the fusspot wolfed down a bowl of courgette and brie soup. I almost wept with gratitude. A lovely trip to the park to see friends in the afternoon sunshine. A happy happy day.
We decide on pizzas for tea. If you don’t already, then please have a go at making your own pizza dough. It’s so quick and easy, and tastes much better than anything you can buy. I use the recipe in Rachel Allen’s ‘Bake’ book which always works well.
The kids love to make the dough. It doubles up as an activity to take their minds off CarWars for 20 minutes. Result.
I need to sneak some vegetables in so I use some Peperonata that I’d made a couple of days earlier for a disastrous tea date. Don’t ask. Moodies, vomiting, tears. It was horrific. Not a magical day that one.
The sauce is basically red, orange and yellow peppers, leeks and garlic – sweated down in some oil for about 20 minutes. I then add some tinned tomatoes, sugar and basil and simmer for a bit before mashing. Great on pasta (add sausages and mushrooms), as a ‘ketchup’ or, like today, on pizzas.
We roll out the pizza dough and smear on plenty of sauce. I’ve no mozzarella so Red Leicester will have to do. Then into the oven for 15 minutes. “Me…me made this mummy. It’s wonderful” says the fusspot. Well said my boy. 9/10.