One summer day when Jay was a little baby, lying in her pram, a swarm of bees appeared from behind the house, flying high above the roof and then down over to exactly where the pram was standing. I heard the noise, looked up in horror and ran across the lawn. Luckily, by the time I reached the pram, the swarm had flown up high into the air again and away, not leaving a single bee behind to sting my baby. It is this horribly wonderful event that I remember while listening about St. Ambrose and the bees at church today.
When the dough is ready I call the girls to help. We end up with two plates of gnocchi ready for boiling and a happy face, all three of us.
Jay has learnt to play Silent Night on the piano all by herself. No music notes. She plays it again for me and beams with pride.