I think some people may have been put off by my last post. I can assure you that there are no maggots or grubs in this posting. It is squirm free!*
The cranberry walnut brioche is selling like…well, I’d say hotcakes, but it’s selling like brioche. This has by far been the most popular bread I’ve made, with five orders in less than a week. To this I say, “Qu’ils mangent de la brioche!” Though you can’t see, I am cupping my Gauloises in my hand and twirling my moustache with the other. Zut alors!
Last night Baby Harbat was Little Miss I’m Doing It. When I picked her up from school, she was furiously drawing either lightning bolts or blades of yellow grass on a chalkboard.
“Hi Babbu.”
No hug, or big celebration. Then she put away the chalk, got the eraser, cleaned off the board, picked up the stray erasers, and put them all away. When I asked for my hug, I got the kind of brush-off you’d get if you were a paparazzo asking Claudia Schiffer for an open-mouth kiss. She marched out the door with a quick, “Bye erry-body” and a wave, then climbed up the stepstool to get a drink from the water fountain. From both nozzles.
“Do you want to ride on my shoulders?”
“No, Babbu, I walking!”
She strode down the walkway, gave a quick evening salutation to one of her teachers, then walked out to the car, climbed into the carseat and sat down with a huff. In that moment I realized I’ve made the transition from loved caregiver to faceless chauffer.
But then all was back to normal when we got home and she clung to me like a baby sloth as I attempted to unload five hundred bags from the car. My heart was happy for it, my lower back not so much.
*Did you think I’d forgotten this asterisk? This post isn’t totally squirm-free. Here is a picture of a lamprey, one of my favorite animals to say, least favorite to see. Happy Wednesday!
Writer, architect, father, husband.
Awwww..cute lamprey.
Poor Babbu, just wait until you really are the faceless chauffeur!