Sarah and I had some rare time alone in the house together while I was making dinner, and I decided to put her to work. I was making this, and I had her make the corn tortillas. (Yes, I make tortillas, but it is really easy.)
She did a superlative job, and kept her work station neat. This was thrilling to me. I was proud of her skill in the kitchen, but it also signified the dawning of a new phase of child-rearing; the age of indentured servitude.
Punch-drunk with possibilities, I put her on cheese grating duty, which she handled with aplomb.
Tomorrow, I shall have her organize the root cellar, and scrub the scullery.