Taking Flight

On 101 Cookbooks the other day, I found a recipe for Anzac biscuits. Pretty similar to the Edmonds version that every New Zealander grew up with, but it was so sweet to see an explanation of the term Anzac under the recipe, and all the comments from people in the US struggling to find golden syrup. The debate about whether honey or maple syrup or treacle would do, instead.
Anyhoo, to mark my mum's milestone of 50 days without smoking, Sweeney and I knocked up a batch of Anzacs for her. No significance really, except that Mum has a great fondness for food in biscuit form, and I think she deserves a sugary, buttery treat. And it's nice to do something nice for your mum, right??

101 Cookbooks pressed the mixture into gorgeous heart shapes, and I thought I'd try something the same, but I have no biscuit moulds. I do, however, have access to playdough moulds, and the butterfly shape looked interesting to me. As you can see, it makes for a lifelike result. Although the monarch in the photo has been dead for some time - I've been collecting up dead butterflies and cicadas and bumblebees this summer, but that's for a whole other post.

She's talked a lot about feeling liberated from smoking, so maybe the butterflies can signify this new freedom she's experiencing.

Sweeney and I have been butting heads after preschool each night since Dad went back to Christchurch. Okay, that's only two nights, but it's come as a shock because everything seemed so mellow. When I think about it, the last three weeks have involved a lot of trips to the hospital to see Martin at that time of day, or being with lots of people for dinner, or doing something intrepid with Grandad. Now it's just boring old Mum, who's saying that she needs to make dinner so she can't kick the ball around or play cars on the deck. And no, that's not an invitation for Sweeney to kick the ball around in the kitchen.

But after a bumpy few hours together, including a timeout outside Paddy's Lotto Shop, when we'd got through the horror of dinner, bath, pyjamas, and were mucking around before going upstairs to bed, we made butterflies out of our fingers and fluttered them over each other's face. Sooo nice.

And this is what we read fifty times tonight - this week's favourite book. It's old enough that cabin crew are referred to as "stewardesses". Kind of hilarious.

Oh, and the golden syrup debate?? Nothing - nothing - works like golden syrup. It's worth the hunting.