It starts off gently. Just a little rising in the chest every so often. A little wistfulness for dirty hands and freedom of fingers and mind. A little panic that it has been so long now (two weeks) that I will have forgotten the movements and flicks that make things work.
It grows gradually – through lack of opportunity. Through growing confidence of children that today will contain marvels and discoveries about themselves and their world that are so far untapped.
I have bred curious monsters (of the nicest possible kind). And painting these last few weeks has been impossible. I miss it – I crave it, and I know that by next week if I don’t get some in somehow I will become a screaming, grumpy harpy that will have her way. She’s not very nice.
After almost a full week of ‘can we do it today, can we do it tomorrow – is tomorrow today?’ we did it. We made homemade pasta from scratch.
Spinach and Ricotta ravioli (remembered too late to take photos), and spaghetti.
It was good. Very good. But fiddly, and we could have done without the ravioli (good as it was). The ravioli made mama a bit grumpy. But Matteo loved every single second of the planning, the making and the eating.
We will definately do it again – but I might need to get some painting in beforehand…..