Is it today? It must be today.

Chewier and softer, they said. I add 50% more butter and 25% more sugar. This is not granola, more like a tuile, but whatever.

Tea time.

She looks cute. But it’s not cute. She looks grown. She’s growing up.

This mug does not fit in the cup holder. I start to ask her to hold it, but then see a vision of me heading down the switchback and her spilling it all over herself. I change my mind.

Another enthusiastic wave.

“Sunny came home to her favorite room / Sunny sat down in the kitchen / She opened a book and a box of tools / Sunny came home with a mission.”

Welp. Whatever. It’s only for a season.

Better.

Not better.