The Tea

Sun-dappled leaves

       bright green and cheerful

           waving outside my bedroom window.


I smile.

  And nod my head in greeting.


It is eight o'clock in the morning

              on a Sunday

     and I have crawled back into bed



to relax.


Because my sweet six-year old has made me breakfast in bed.

So that, as the card read, "You will not be busy making breakfast.  You will be relaxing and eating breakfast in bed."


Today, on our heat soaked walk around the neighborhood, he told me the tea bag he picked was to help me relax.


           (On Mother's Day morning, part of breakfast in bed came from a Kindergarten classroom project.  A paper bag held a poem, a nutri-grain bar, and a tea bag.)


They could choose out of an assortment of tea bags.  A lot of the kids wanted the one that helps your mom fall asleep.  "But I choose the one to help you relax."

During our walk, energy drained by the late afternoon sun, I decided to drink my tea when we got home.

"I'll make it for you,"  he said.

And then, in a moment of grandness, he decided to make me dinner too.

"What would you like?" he asked.

"What is there?" I replied.

"Ohhh  . . French toast, chicken salad, a sandwich."

"I'll take French toast."

"Coming right up!"

He heated it up (it was leftover from a couple days ago), buttered it, drizzled syrup, brought me a fork.

"Anything to drink?"

"I've got my tea."

"Oh yeah."


So I sat and sipped my tea.


And relaxed.


Six-year-olds are pretty amazing.