This morning I took Daughter for her quarterly blood work for the diabetes doctor. We always go to the same ambulatory care center, and today I asked if she'd like to go in and take care of it on her own. She thought for a minute, and decided that was a good idea. She went in while I waited in the car, and she was quite pleased with herself when she was done.
We went from there to my favorite bakery/deli for breakfast. I ordered an omelet, and she ordered a breakfast bowl. The bowl came out overflowing with sliced potatoes on the bottom, then crumbled sausage, fried eggs, and on top, gravy. She played with it a few minutes and then shut down. She couldn't tell me what was wrong. It didn't taste like the bowl she gets at a different restaurant. She didn't know if it was good. I slid her food over to me, took her knife and fork, and cut through everything, mixing it all up. I pushed it back over to her. She thanked me and began to eat with gusto. She hadn't been able to figure out how to eat it and couldn't ask me for help.
One minute she's a responsible adult, taking in the appropriate paperwork and signing release forms, the next minute she's a young child, unable to figure out how to eat her breakfast. I wish her age appeared on her forehead so I'd have some clue as to how to deal with her.
We found a store with the fuzzy posters she wanted, so we're home and she's happy. As you can see in the picture, I think Kitten is happy, too.
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