Every December, Daniela’s family makes tamales at her abuela’s house. This year, Daniela was finally old enough to help.

Abuela showed her how to spread the masa on a corn husk. “Not too thick,” Abuela said. “Thin, like butter on toast.” Daniela’s first one was lumpy, and the masa slid off the side. Her cousin Mateo laughed, but Abuela just handed her another husk.

Daniela tried again. She went slowly and pressed the masa flat with the back of a spoon. Her uncle added the meat, and her mom folded each tamal and stood it up in the big pot.

By evening, the whole kitchen smelled like corn and chile. Daniela counted the tamales she had helped make. There were thirty-two. “Next year,” she said, “I want to learn how to fold them, too.”