One morning when we were pretty small, Anthony and I went downstairs, poured some flour and some water into a bowl and made tortillas.
They were awful.
Sometimes I still have that feeling, an anxious excitement, of being in the middle of something without appropriate grownup supervision. (If this works, it is so going to be so great!)
Measuring out tablespoons of white vinegar, pouring it over little dye tablets – nothing fancy, just the old Paas kind from the grocery store – and waiting for the fiz.
Alice got it, I think. Except that when she was finished coloring her eggs, she crushed them. Like, held them in her fist and really good and smashed them.
Is it me, or does vinegar smell like springtime?