I still remember the first Saturday my kids tried to bake by themselves — flour on the floor, a sticky trail from the counter to the table, and laughter that echoed down the hallway. As a mom in my forties with two kids between eight and twelve, my days are full of carpools, lunchbox negotiations, and neighborhood playdates. I like a kitchen that can handle breakfast chaos, homework sessions at the island, and the quieter moments when I sip coffee while the street wakes up. Over the years I learned that color and texture do more than look pretty; they…