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Two for Tea

Two nights out of the last four our son has pleaded for a tea party.

That is…

The kind with tea cups.

And tea.

And while you’re at it, a bean burrito.

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The kind that calls for donning a twice-worn sweater vest, your dad as maitre d’ and seventeen towels to wipe up the oopsies.

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Because whatever it is…this chance to feel ten instead of five or fifteen instead of eight–

Or to finally eat where there’s carpet…

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They embrace it. The whole experience.

All twenty minutes of it.

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And if my eyes aren’t fooling me, it seems they’ve grown a little older in that time.

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