Flour

I am trying my hand at making some homemade bread tonight. I had it sitting on the counter on a floured surface when I saw Cate (age 4) admiring it.

“What are you doing, Cate?””Nothing!” she innocently responds, as she quickly turns away from the counter, wiping the tell-tale signs of white flour onto her black pants. (She also has a flour-smudge near her lips, too. This is the same child who regularly leaves fingerprint marks in the butter when stealing little tastes.)

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