It only took 2 seconds.
While serenely discussing America’s obsession with health while we all eat Peanut Butter Kix for breakfast, we looked up to see Sebastien’s face completely covered in hazelnut creamer.
So was the blue sweater on the elderly lady behind us. Her friend’s forehead which now smelled like hazelnut, welcoming a shot of espresso down her face to complete the order. And the unsuspecting bald man 2 tables down who wiped the back of his head not knowing where the wet liquid came from.
The hazards of a 4 year old.
I’m learning how to feign the stern face of a parent before Eric & I bust out laughing to the side. Because basically we want everyone to THINK we’re good parents and take these hazelnut creamer matters very seriously.
I do not.
I do take seriously what’s ahead for me come February – eschewing my corporate job and taking on a family and children and math homework and listening to Antshillvania and spiritual growth and frog hunting and cooking and cleaning and getting more than 80% on my Ohio permit test so I can drive the kids around.
Mostly, I just want to be the kind of mom who can brush off a hazelnut creamer mishap and keep it all in perspective.
Clearly, Sebastien and I recovered from Creamergate – he with a peanut butter cup, me by sporting my new Ohio State gear:
