happy places

I woke at 3:30 this morning, for no good reason, and for even worse reasons than “no good”, I could not fall asleep again. My alarm goes off at 5:30 and Anselm gets up at 6, so by that time we were up for good (though just lingering in bed).

The big boys were up at 7:30 for oatmeal, like they are everyday; Ephraim helped me stir the pot before dashing off to climb up in his chair and eagerly await his breakfast. Clive is learning to ask for things “nicely” rather than whining, and he repeatedly chirped “may…I…hab…be…oatmeal…PWEASE!” while I spooned it into bowls, being careful to stick an ice cube in Clive’s before I gave it to him so it wouldn’t be too hot.

We’ve all got our little things that bring us joy, and Oatmeal Mornings are certainly a very happy thing for them. I believe we have eaten oatmeal every single morning for 2.5 years, with a few exceptions, obviously, for pancakes or the special doughnut trip. It’s something they count on. I don’t mind if they don’t mind–especially since I have the ability to make myself toast or eggs instead if I so choose.

On this very tired morning, watching the kids in their Happy Place, I figured it may be a good day to go to mine, too. My Happy Place, that is.

I’ve only been to Miss Mamie’s a handful of times, but I adore it. I wish they sold something besides just cupcakes so I could have more excuses to go. Miss Mamie’s Deli. Miss Mamie’s Pizza. Miss Mamie’s Turkey Dinner with sweet potato pie. As it is, there are just cakes and cupcakes, which is more than perfectly fine, because they are AMAZING.

The kids split a strawberry cupcake. Mine was cookie dough.

Happy Place.

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happy places

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