Streams of Starbucksness

I am at Starbucks with my sweet three year old Abby.  She’s been really cranky today, but she is quiet right now.  She is eating a pink cake pop and people watching.  We are making the mermaids on our cups talk. I’m the mommy and she’s the baby.  She looks out the window and says, “The cars are going fast!”  Jazz pulsates and slides out of the speakers.

Abby is hunched over her chair backwards watching the manager interviewing someone.  I’m admiring my gold purse and pondering the purple stainless and ceramic mug that is on my wish list.  I sip the sweet, rich foam off the top of my latte – nectar of the coffee warming my insides.  I look into her adorable face – hair a mess, smiling, dimple shown, big blue eyes laughing. 

 

Abby plays a game, “Can you sit in this position, mommy?” Leaning forward, on the edge, on her knees, legs spread apart, sideways with legs crossed.  She says, “It’s a little table!  That one is a little table!  It’s a baby!”

She climbs on my lap.  She says, “You have to write, mama.  Why?”  I say, “I must!” She says, “You so cute.”  I kiss her still pudgy, toddler cheek. How I wish all of my moments with her were like this – coming off lunch time with her tantrums and my yelling.  Night and day.

The music slows and saddens, tranquil trumpet.  This moment fleeting, the clock signaling the end.  She bonks my head with hers grabbing my pen and clicking it so I cannot write – snapping me back to reality.