Jim was out of town for work. Natalie, Connor, and I were miles from home after an early evening appointment. The thought of making dinner at this late hour made my mind feel like a melting-down toddler's body: All dead weight. I did not want to make dinner.
Salvation stood nearby: Our local 24/7 pancake house. When it comes down to breakfast for dinner, I'm not sure who likes it more: Me or Connor and Natalie.
We slid into a booth, and Connor read the menu. "Hmm. Kids eat free." He pondered for half a moment and then said, "No, thank you. I'd rather pay to eat. I'm worth something."
We celebrated Connor's ninth birthday this weekend. The little sentimentalist, he waited anxiously for the clock to point to 18 minutes after five o'clock that evening so he could mark the exact moment of his birth. Despite our best clock-watching, we missed that moment by six minutes.
John Lennon had something to say about times like that. In other news, Connor has decided that is is high time that he try coffee. He went bold: A sip of espresso.
He sipped. He pondered. He announced, "Hmm, it's . . . good, but I'm not really meant for it yet."
And what do they call espresso that is tried too soon in life? That's right: Expresso. That's OK. He's still my little boy.