At around 6:00 the other night, Abby made her way into the kitchen to ask what she usually asks at 6:00 when I'm in the kitchen. "Mom, what's for dinner?" Even though Andy had started hacking up a butternut squash about six hours earlier, even though I was standing there over a stock pot, wielding an immersion blender, minutes away from pureeing the cooked squash with apple into a lovely soup, I answered what I always answer when I'm not sure she's going to
I Don’t Know Yet
I Don’t Know Yet
I Don’t Know Yet
At around 6:00 the other night, Abby made her way into the kitchen to ask what she usually asks at 6:00 when I'm in the kitchen. "Mom, what's for dinner?" Even though Andy had started hacking up a butternut squash about six hours earlier, even though I was standing there over a stock pot, wielding an immersion blender, minutes away from pureeing the cooked squash with apple into a lovely soup, I answered what I always answer when I'm not sure she's going to