A Peanut Butter Kiss


I knock at the door and open it slowly. I see her, perched on top of the big bed and doing her makeup. She wiggles her mommy’s face brush and touches her cheeks.

When she sees me, she slides down on the floor and comes to give me a hug.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, leaving my purse on the sofa.

“Yeah,” she says and waits patiently next to her highchair.

I secure her in her seat and go and wash my hands. Mommy is making waffles with peanut butter.

” ‘Niam,’ ” she says, just in case we didn’t get it yet. In her language that means, ” I’m hungry.”

She gets half of a waffle cut in pieces, nice covered in peanut butter. The soft butter trickles on her little fingers. I sit and watch, and love her.

No time for small talk on her side, but “mmm’ and “ah.”

Papa is getting ready to go to work.

“Kiss Papa,” and he bends over her.

With all the great hunger, she proves to be so well behaved. She stops eating and leaves a peanut butter kiss on Papa’s cheek.

Then the day begins.


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