It started out like any other Wednesday morning. We all ate pancakes, and then we gradually made our way back to the twins’ room where Erin and I watched Jettie pull Timothy up and down the hall in their little red wagon. When it was time for Timothy and Erin’s nap, Jettie gave them a hug and kiss and told them night night.

She shut their door, looked at me, and said, “Ok momma, Bubba and Sissy are night night. Let’s make pie.” I could think of a hundred things that I needed to get done around the house before getting ready for work, but when Jettie says “Let’s make pie,” you make pie.

Jettie dragged her silver stool over to the icebox and gathered her ingredients. One by one, she grabbed the eggs, the buttermilk, the milk, and the butter, and she placed them on the counter next to the mixer. Next she retrieved her ingredients from the cabinet. What kind of pie were we making? Buttermilk, of course!

I gave Jettie the step by step instructions and watched as she executed them perfectly, other than the improvised spoon licks from time to time, dumping an entire cup of flour on the floor, and fishing out an eggshell or two. After getting the pie in the oven, Jettie pulled her stool over to the oven door and watched it as it baked. She was fascinated!

Shorty after the pie finished baking, I cut Jettie a little slither to try. “YUMMMMM Momma, we make good pie!”

There were a hundred other things that I could have been doing today, none of which involved cleaning up flour off of my freshly mopped floors, wiping up spilt buttermilk off of my kitchen counter, or cleaning the buttery little handprints off of the oven door. It would have been easy to ignore Jettie’s request to make a pie, but when I look back on my childhood it’s those memories of baking that same pie with my Ma that bring a smile to my face.

THE END…

#loveyoulikepeaches