Wednesday, September 28th 2016
“Sorry guys but we are NOT going to make it for breakfast,” I say, driving the kids to school. “How about some bread and butter?”
My 5 year nods in excitement. Pulling the butter dish and sack of rolls from my purse, I prepare and distribute one to her.
There are two left so I butter and hand them to my 8 year old. (Yes driving, mea culpa.)
Then I hear this; “Here ClaraJane, you can eat more bread and butter than I can,” as my boy hands one of his rolls to his baby sister.
The quiet sound of joy and astonishment. My daughter gleefully alternates bites between her double-fisted breakfast. I drive on in awe of this act of grandeur.
Little did I know Boy would sneak down to school breakfast anyway, in order to partake of the promised yogurt parfait offered in Daddy’s kitchen that day.
(I was heading in on behalf of Dept. of Public Works to help students dispose of them correctly, though obviously I was late and never mind.)
Later Boy says, “Mom remember that time I gave ClaraJane the BIGGEST french fry from my plate? And you cried with gladness?”
And just to temper the unicorns and butterflies a smidge, here is the 45-minute dinner out I’d conceived for us to have family time today between activities, wherein dear daughter proclaims she will eat nothing, and the boys promptly throw themselves inextricably into the next shiny thing overhead.
And finally, upon arriving at Taekwondo, my son announces, “As soon as I get to quit I intend to forget everything I learn here!”
Nice sentence structure, son.