Three-year-old Mack and I picked out some lovely ripe cherries at the market today. We’re going to chop them up and put them in homemade ice cream.
At lunch I diced some of them and gave them to eight-month-old Aidan.
He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth. Immediately, his eyes shot to me with an expression that perfectly conveyed two thoughts:
“My God, but I do love you, woman.”
and
“Exactly what else have you been keeping from me?”