Mason and Lior left for their date, leaving just me, the kitchen, and a decision I had been putting off long enough.
I decided to bake cinnamon rolls. I told myself it was a random choice and had nothing to do with the fact that I remembered from that summer that they were Mason's favorite.
The first batch came out terrible. Burnt in some places, underdone in others. The second batch was better and edible, but not there yet. I wanted perfect or close to it at least.
Before starting the third, I sat down with my phone and watched what felt like thousands of videos because I was running low on ingredients, and one more failed batch meant a trip back to the store. That would kill the momentum.
Armed with every tip the internet had to offer, I tried again. Rolled the dough, filled it, shap
