Madison and I have to be in attendance at our church's youth group table at the local harvest festival tomorrow. Pastor Paul asked me to bring a pan of bars and 3 pounds of sloppy joe's. Sure, no problem. I like to bake and cook, so no biggie!
The kids and I got home from the library today where Madison and Thomas were each doing research for their compositions. I sent the kids out to play in this glorious weather and began to bake. I made a double batch of pumpkin bars; one for the church youth group and one for us. They were a gorgeous shade of autumnal orange and the scent of them baking enveloped the house in an aura of Martha Stewart.
My oven tends to cook a little on the hot side, so I always reduce baking time, which I did today. Sadly I burned the hell out of both pans of bars. The heavenly scent of baking pumpkin bars dissipated in a noxious cloud of charcoal when I opened the oven door. I guess the smell of burning bars always lures kids back inside where they greeted me with their lovely sentiments of "Gross, what stinks?" and "Yuck who's cooking firewood?" I love my kids, I love my kids, I love my kids, at least that's what I'm telling myself right now.
The kitchen widows are open now in an effort to air out the offending smell. I am sure that even the neighbor 1/3 mile away can smell the mistake now. Honestly, I don't know why the oven cooked them so quickly, but what I do know is that I will be venturing back into the kitchen in an effort to redeem myself and my ability to make basic pumpkin bars. Crap! I hate it when I make the boo boo and can't blame it on one of the kids!
There are scars, still. Even within the miracles.
2 months ago