I’ve been a bad blogger but a good productive writer. The fourth (at least, I think it’s the fourth) draft of MacKenna (The Fine Art of Holding Your Breath) is done. I’ve asked a few victims volunteers to read it over.
So I was finishing up the last pages–literally, when Andrew stumbled from his bedroom to his computer in the dining/computer/whatever room. He wanted me to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Now, he’s quite capable of making his own small meals/snacks. He cooks on Scout camping trips, makes his own ramen and soup, and even wields a knife to cut up strawberries for us. He can spread peanut butter on some bread.
He insisted it would taste better if I made it.
And I told him that PB&J pretty much tastes the same no matter who makes it.
To which he said: “But, Mommy, you make yours with extra love.”
You gotta give the boy points for that.
I eventually finished editing.
He still made his own sandwich.