I always have so much fun with Great-gran at Christmas time.
She reads off the recipe, but I'm old enough now that Great-gran has me do all of the measurements. Still, she watches me closely to make sure I do it right. It's very important, she says.
Then I knead it, but my hands get tired, and she takes over. It's supposed to be about like Play-Doh when we're done.
"Excellent," she says. "Homemade plastic explosives like I've made since the sixties. Supplements my Social Security these days. Now let's move on to napalm."
I smile big. I love Great-gran.
