Usually I carry them to the kitchen in another part of the building and come back to fetch them twenty minutes later.  But lately the ovens have been finicky and my co teacher suggested I wait instead. She can handle the class solo for circle time. Last week I pulled up a stool and stared. In spite of one liners about over zealous cooks watching reluctant water I kept checking. That means I opened the oven door approximately every three minutes, letting the heat waft into my face. They were still pasty beige after half an hour. We ate them but there was no satisfying crunch. This week when she told me to wait again, I brought something to do. I tucked five skeins of yarn under my arms, while I balanced two pans of deliciousness. The art teacher saw me in the hall and offered to help, since I left a thin trail behind me like Gretel. 

 

After I pushed the trays into the big ovens I began to wind bright green and blue balls. I was distracted from the cooking time and without interference from me they turned a lovely brown. 

 

Other times there have been interruptions that pull away my attention from the problem. I want to argue about the finances but there are three children on the verge of meltdown if they don't eat in the next ten minutes. Or the phone rings and I must redirect my brain to the urgency of our older son who needs to book a flight to Alaska. Today. 

 

I heard a keynote address at a conference that reported a surprising fact. When couples are unhappy, and stay married, in five years over half of them describe themselves as happy. This is regardless of whether they kept opening the oven. They simply stopped worrying about their relationship and paid attention to their kids or their jobs or the economy. For many people their marriages simply got past the doughy stage. 

 

It makes me think there is Someone working behind the scenes, if I can keep out of the kitchen. 

Photo by Chara Odhner

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