The other day I was making pies. The Monkeys were "helping". I'm not sure what went wrong with the crust, because I didn't make it. You may recall from this post that, these days, the food processor is my tool of choice for pie crust. So, I asked the Mad Scientist to throw the pie crust together while I worked on...something else that really needed to be done. I don't remember what, but I'm sure it was important.
The Mad Scientist has been forever relieved of crust-making duties. It was awful. It was completely falling apart, and really, pretty much the worst crust I've ever worked with. And the Monkeys still wanted to help.
I was getting really stressed out, trying to still end up with something resembling a decent pie, when I had a sudden moment of clarity. The truth is, I've made a lot of pies. And to be perfectly honest, they usually taste better than they look. My pies are really good, but the appearance frequently leaves a bit to be desired. And I realized that no one was going to think back, twenty years from now, and remember how fabulous these pies had looked. No one would ever say "Remember that time when Daddy screwed up the pie crust, but Mom somehow managed to pull it together and turn out a cover-model pie anyway? Martha Stewart would have been proud, and just thinking of it gives me warm fuzzies!"
Yeah, right. But I was making a memory. What kind did I want it to be?
So I relaxed, and I let everyone help. Then we pieced the crust together over the filling, and stuck it in the oven. And you know what? It tasted just fine.