“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Waiting. I want to try and catch the toast when it pops out,” I say. I pull my hand back for a second and rub my fingers together. “But it’s quite hot this close to the toaster.”
Distracted by speaking that last sentence, I fumble the toast when it pops out and it falls back to the top of the toaster. I put it on a plate and take the glass of Nutella out of the drawer.
“In daycare,” she says, “and at school, they spread the Nutella way too thick. The butter too.”
Only here at home do we know how to spread right.