Oliver and I were walking down a busy street today, and just before us, an old Porsche 911 pulled into a parking garage. Ol said, with complete seriousness, "that car looks like it's from the 1970s." I about fell out. When I stopped guffawing with love and appreciation, I asked him what he meant. He said, "well, it looks old-fashioned." Now y'all, this is all true but how did he know about old-fashioned Porsche aesthetics and equate that with the '70s? He then went ballistic because I refused to buy him a $10 candy cane-shaped cookie cutter, but I'm going to end my day thinking about the funny rather than the ridiculous. Meanwhile, Jack is working so hard on a new morning strategy, and I am dying with pride and love. If he can do X each day this week, I'm treating him to a new pack of baseball cards on Friday after school. After a third successful morning today, it took all I had to not go buy him the cards early. And then he thanked me for helping him conceive of this new "system." I could die.
I haven't told you this yet but I learned, again, on Monday never to rush making a cake. That lemon cake was like a yellow brick. Oliver professed to love it so I let him have 80% before tossing it out. Then tonight I made an exceedingly average pasta for dinner and now am happier with my austere cup of tea.
You win some, you lose some.