A little girl and her mother sat a well-polished wooden table. Outside was a flurry of snow dancing around as it fell from the clouds. The little brown-haired girl had her hair in a ponytail, and on a plate in front of her was a golden piece of toast smeared with butter. She disregarded it and watched her mother, a lovely woman whose face was hidden behind a newspaper and who was sipping away at her coffee that she had bought at Starbucks and poured into a mug. The little girl stood up from her chair and climbed over to her mother, who smiled and put down the newspaper and her cup, picking her daughter up and putting her on her lap.
“Mommy, can I please have some of your coffee?” The little girl looked at her mom with pleading brown eyes, and her mom sighed and smiled, kissed her daughter’s cheek, and told her,
“Not today, sweetheart. When you’re old enough I’ll get you your own coffee.”
“Please, Mommy?”
The mother laughed, warned her that the tickle monster was coming and tickled the little girl’s stomach until she burst over in laughter. She squirmed and climbed down from her mother’s lap and left the room.
Later, when her mom went upstairs to get dressed for the day, the little girl came back to the well-polished wooden table and stole her mom’s white mug. She took a sip, allowing the taste of the iced coffee with skim milk to run through her. She made a face at the bitterness, and considered spitting it out, eventually deciding not to – it was her mommy’s coffee and it was special to her.
The little girl’s name was Emma.
“Mommy, can I please have some of your coffee?” The little girl looked at her mom with pleading brown eyes, and her mom sighed and smiled, kissed her daughter’s cheek, and told her,
“Not today, sweetheart. When you’re old enough I’ll get you your own coffee.”
“Please, Mommy?”
The mother laughed, warned her that the tickle monster was coming and tickled the little girl’s stomach until she burst over in laughter. She squirmed and climbed down from her mother’s lap and left the room.
Later, when her mom went upstairs to get dressed for the day, the little girl came back to the well-polished wooden table and stole her mom’s white mug. She took a sip, allowing the taste of the iced coffee with skim milk to run through her. She made a face at the bitterness, and considered spitting it out, eventually deciding not to – it was her mommy’s coffee and it was special to her.
The little girl’s name was Emma.