Saturday, September 8, 2012

The breakfast table

I awoke to a cold, pointy finger pecking at my shoulder. I rolled over to see Lanie, who whispered a malady in my ear about her throat.

The day began.

At the table drinking coffee and perusing Pinterest, I reminisced how my mornings always began with Lanie, punctual, and her daily finger poke on my shoulder in the before. What I saw in retrospect would forever change with her words:

"It just didn't feel right downstairs without you there."

Shane and I talked about patio remodels and demolition and a one-day wish list. Lanie offers:

"I know that doctors don't really pull lollipops out of your ear."

"What?" I asked.

"They sneak a lollipop in their hands so you don't see it, then touch the wrapper to the ear and pretend to pull it out."

Life's mysteries, solved.

"What do you mean? Shane, did you hear this?!" I said in mock surprise.

"Doctors don't pull lollipops out of your ear? What about quarters?" he asked.

Lanie sighed. "They sneak a lollipop in their hands so you don't see it. Then they touch the wrapper to the ear and pretend to pull it out. Kaelyn told me her dad pulled a quarter out of her bottom."

We chuckled.

"That's a neat trick. I wish I could pull quarters out of my bottom," Shane said.

If I had had coffee in my mouth, I'm sure I would have sprayed it across the table.

Commenced inappropriate laughter.

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