It’s a Saturday morning, one of the last few days of February vacation. The girls are in the bathroom dressing up for their “dance recital” game which to me means I can drink coffee, blog and eat cookies for breakfast. Those eagle eyes will spot a completely hidden cookie in no time flat. Really. Having kids has really eaten into my cookie-eating time.
Usually I take photos in what I jokingly refer to as “my office”. It’s the side of the kitchen peninsula where I get most of my work done. Today I’m really in my office, the place where I get the rest of my work done.
I have a hot cup of coffee, you can see it’s still got the “crema” or foam on the top. It’s the time when I get that first blissful sip … “ahhhh …!” I used to adore martinis, and probably would still if I had the tolerance for that much alcohol. Martinis have that first, magical sip as well. The sip you feel in your bones and your whole body feels it coming in.
Today’s cookie of choice: stroopwaffels. These stale and sweet wafers (or “waffers” as Margaret has been saying, producing an instant “it’s only waffer thin!” from me and DH) are a pale imitation of my memories of eating hot stroopwaffels when we visited Amsterdam. But I can pretend they are the real thing.
The dance recital is in progress. The dancers in this play evidently have a lot of paperwork to fill out, as Margaret is asking Charlotte a lot of questions and filling out a form on her clip board. Questions Charlotte can’t begin to answer because, well, she’s 3. This is followed by barre work and play cooking. Of course. Because dancers do barre work on stage and use a microwave to make ice cream.
I have a hazy recollection that Charlotte climbed into bed with me before DH did. Either that or I dreamed that she said she had to pee and I kicked him until he took her. I woke up to Margaret in the bed near me. I need to charge admission so I can afford to install that revolving door.