Bad Biscuits

We had decided that in exchange for my mom caring for the boys once a week in her daycare, I would make mom and dad a meal for that night. It was good for me as I was home working and it was easy to double up on what I would be making anyways. I don’t remember what the main course was on this particular evening. But I do remember I had made biscuits to accompany it.
My family was complaining about the biscuits and how they were quiet yucky not worth eating at all.
I had to dash down to mom and dad’s for a moment. I walked in the door and dad was on his seat at the end of the couch eating his meal. In fact he was eating one of the biscuits. I said to him “my family says those are disgusting.” He looked up and said “well they taste just fine to me.”
I returned home and announced to my family “well Gramps says the biscuits are just fine.”
(it’s worth mentioning that I could not make my own opinion as I do not eat gluten and these biscuits were full of it.)
As I started to clean the kitchen my husband asked “what kind of biscuits where those” and I said “baking powder biscuits”, almost at the very moment that I put the baking SODA away in the cupboard. That’s when it all fell in to place for me. The two are easy to mix up in the rush of preparing a meal with small people at your feet.
There is something so rare and fabulous about the sort of love that leads a person to eat a baking soda biscuits with a smile and a compliment. And it’s this sort of loving that a girl can end up missing for the rest of her living days while simultaneously bowing down in gratitude for the chance to experience it.

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