Every day, when we’re walking to kindergarten, we have a mandatory stop: our local pizza place.
Early in the morning there’s always dough in the kneading machine, facing the window. It’s a big machine. We have to pick tinyMovieStar up (assuming she’s not riding on my shoulders already), and look at the dough, slowly moving this way and that way.
The kitchen staff smiles, we wait a couple of minutes, and move on.
We used to go there often, but not so much these days. We asked the little one if she’d like to taste the pizza made with that dough, and of course she would. We picked her up from school today, and told her we would visit a secret garden. A wonderful garden where we could have pizza.
Sitting in said garden, armed with restaurant-provided crayons and drawing paper, we had a lovely time. Yummy pizza as always.