The starter didn’t look like much, maybe grainy sugar. It didn’t smell much, either. Not what I expected. I figured making sourdough bread would be a fun afternoon project for toddler and me, and he was game. He’s game for almost anything new, though he’s not sure about his new sister.

We mixed flour, water and starter. Toddler looked at it, said, “I want some milk.” “That’s mother sponge, not milk.” Toddler wanted to eat sourdough bread. “We have to wait. We have to let it bubble.” Toddler played with trucks. I changed the infant, did laundry.

Next day we made baby sponge and put the mother in the frig. “Now we have to let the baby sponge proof.” Toddler played with twist ties. I fed the baby.

When the infant napped, we made the dough and kneaded it. “Now we let it rise.” Toddler wanted to go for a walk with me. “We can’t go now.” Toddler peed on the infant’s play mat. I put it in the wash.

Finally we made our loaf and baked it. The bread came out flat, dense. We ate it. “We’ll add more flour next time.”