Smile, smile, smile. This is what memories are made of

"Why are you putting down a plastic bag?”

“So that if something spills, it will be easy to clean up.”

“But Maaa — I’m going to be so careful!”

“Why do you care if I put down a plastic bag? It’s smart. I do it when I bake, too!”

And then we begin.

“Well if you want to bake, you’ll have to read,” I say to my first grader, who is still struggling over her words.

“In…grat? Grad? Grid?”

“Ingredients. Okay, I’ll read. You just get the ingredients.”

“What are ingredients?”

I start to sweat. That’s one of the warning bells they talk about in anger management courses. I force a smile and keep reading out the list.

“Can I crack the eggs? Nechama’s mother always lets her crack the eggs. I’ll be soooo careful.”

Smile, smile, smile. This is what memories are made of.