Let's. Make. Coffee.
Three and a half years we've been waiting for this moment. It just started last week, as part of a new morning routine. (Maybe we have the new Dora bed to thank?) Instead of watching cartoons when she wakes up, she prefers to sit on the counter while I get breakfast organized. She scoops the coffee into the bodum then stands by to stir it once the kettle whistles. Sometimes we listen to the music from Tangled (or as it's known around here, les cheveux longs), but mostly it's just quiet.
While we're waiting I usually unload the dishwasher and get lunches organized and we eat a banana or share a grapefruit. Then she eats her usual raisin bread (cold, not hot! No toast!) with du butter, Maman. A LOT of butter. What can I say, I guess she's not adopted after all, her freakish aversion to potatoes aside.
Then she gets to push down the plunger and joy abounds.
We've had a few nights of fully UNinterrupted sleep (of course now that I've actually typed those words I'm sure that's the end of that) and it's almost the best part of my day when she comes bursting into our room in the morning: "Maman! Je veux faire du café!"
Luckily she has no interest in DRINKING the coffee but she does love making it. And I love having her sleepy little self perched on the counter with me. She's great company.
In other news, we have watched the Tangled DVD approximately a bajillion times since Papa brought it home on Tuesday. It's a really adorable film with a great message (a smart and capable princess-type that doesn't need rescuing!) and although I can now watch the end without crying, I may have developed a crush on Flynn Ryder. A cartoon crush. Sad.
Speaking of sad, it looks like the ol' gestational diabetes is back. My doctor sent me for an early test and I got the news last week that my sugar levels are a little high. Do not pass GO, get to the hospital for the dreaded two hour exam! Crap. There goes another half day! I know it's really not a big deal as far as pregnancy complications go but I was still disappointed. It means extra time hanging out at the diabetes clinic and following a sugarless diet until delivery not to mention random feelings of dread that PREGNANCY - UR DOIN' IT WRONG. Great. Oh and the Dairy Queen right down the street is now open for the season. I might get them to put my picture by the cash "DO NOT SERVE THIS WOMAN, NO MATTER HOW SHE BEGS FOR A STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE BLIZZARD."
Yes, B.C. readers, due to the frigid temperatures that we get around here almost 6 months out of the year, Dairy Queen closes down in the fall. Plus we don't have actual restaurants that sell burgers and stuff. They are all (I think anyway) outdoor walk-up/take-away counters.
Heading to Vancouver on Thursday, can't wait. Lower Mainland readers, we'll hang out at the movies next weekend, right? I'll be at the 7PM-ish screenings on Friday and Saturday of The Year Dolly Parton Was My Mom at Tinseltown along with the writer/director and B.C. homegirl Tara Johns, not to mention Julia Stone, the star herself. Thanks for your comments on my last post! We wavered somewhere between panic and despair for a while, but now we're at peace with embracing the chaos. It's all good.