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Last weekend the Sweetie Pie brought home a tray of sliced baguette from an office party. When he brought it home, it was only slightly stale. It might be called “day-old”. I considered making bread pudding or panzanella.

The days passed, and the bread sat. It got staler. I considered making croutons.

More days passed and I fingered the bread, trying to decide what it was good for. I decided we’d take it to the park and feed the ducks and geese.

Little did I know, my kiddos had other plans for it.¬†Scavenging the kitchen for more food, they spy the bread. I explain that they wouldn’t want it. They insist they do. They eat it. They love it.


“If you just keep chewing it,” Ruby explains, “it gets softer and softer.” The other kids nod in agreement, their cheeks full of gummy wads of gluten.

And so, in an otherwise ordinary day, a common loaf of stale bread is rescued and redeemed. I call it a good day’s work.

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