Sweet, silky rice

In the spring, the outdoors are dry. It's spring fire, too, isn't it? I don't like to eat, to make all kinds of soybean or porridge for breakfast, to talk about eating, and to watch the rush and dare not feed the beans. Because Bean's dad doesn't support feeding, he always says, "Don't eat, don't be hungry." That's just plain nonsense. I said in my heart that the child had not eaten. Although this is the case, it cannot be said to affect the unity of the family. Home and everything. Today's breakfast is trying to make rice with soybeans and rice, with a soy machine. Because my kitchen is very small, and many of the cooks are moved out of the kitchen when they're used, and they are cleaned and placed in boxes. There's no way. I'm jealous of the big kitchens, the big ovens, the bakers, the noodles, the cookers, the soybeans, the air fryers, they're all set in order. Especially if it's on the operating stage. It's fantastic. I wish I could have realized my dream