I finally made a bread my kids will eat. (Yes, sadly, I had to eat everything else!!) The dinner rolls that I have spent four weeks trying to perfect are now the hit of the household. So much so that the kids decided they’d love to take them to school with peanut butter and jelly on them.
But, you see, these rolls are right at three inches tall. I mean, I have some high-flyin’ dinner rolls over here! I thought that surely was too much bread for the sandwich, so I offered to make two slices in the bread and put PB&J on each slice, then stack it all up neatly the way it was before it met the knife. And, ala Dagwood Bumstead, the Double Decker PBJ was born!
It can’t be the worst thing I’ve sent them to school with. When Aaron was in preschool his teachers noticed that he was incredibly finicky and they worried that he wasn’t eating enough. And, being the super-sweet teachers that they were, they would rather see him eat whatever he wanted rather than go hungry. (Hungry preschoolers make for some cranky students, so I really can’t blame them.) One teacher asked if there was anything Aaron was particularly fond of at home.
“He loves Cheerios.”
“What? Seriously??? You think I should pack Cheerios for his lunch? What will the school cafeteria say?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll just say, ‘I don’t know why that crazy mom sent her kid to school with cereal!’”
We laughed, but essentially that is where Aaron’s dependence on Cheerios originated. I would pack a Ziploc baggie of cereal with a paper bowl and plastic spoon in his lunchbox. He would buy two packs of milk in the cafeteria – one to drink and one to pour over the cereal. It really did make life very easy.
Although, as we are learning now, easy is not always the most productive route.
Now, seven years later, PBJ is the lunch of choice. I have tried to introduce various other breads into the kids’ menus lately, but to no avail. And I fear I am almost burning them out on the rolls. While I was making rolls two weeks ago, Victoria watched me off and on during the day, finally asking, “WHYYYY do you keep taking pictures of BREAD, Mommy?!”
So I can do THIS, my dear:
She thinks I’m crazy. I’m good with that…