Making Coffee

Dae feels bad if he can't be part of this ritual, but right this minute, he's up to his chin in brownie batter. So I think fast. Tiger! His beanie-kitty has recently been The Pusher Of The Brew Button. Maybe that'll be the right stand in.

"Where's your kitty?" I ask, since the water and the ground coffee are ready and waiting.
"Don't you mean Tiger?"
"Yes, Tiger. Where is he? I need him to push the button."
"He's hiding in my new pajama drawer."
"Ah."
But then I pause. We've recently gotten a new chest of drawers for the boyo. It's made of actual wood, and joined with actual carpentry instead of the staples and cursing holding his old, pressboard dresser together. The thing is, it's almost as tall as I am. And the pajama drawer is the second one down. Chest high, to me. Over Dae's head. Wandering in to check, I see Dae's right, though; Tiger is sprawled in with the jammies. I conscript him and start back toward the coffeepot.

"Hey, Squeak?" I call ahead, "Are you tall enough to see into there, already?"
"No," he calls back, a little garbled around a wooden spoon.
"How'd you know that was your pajama drawer if you couldn't see in?" I hold Tiger's paw and press the Brew button, then turn to look at my boyo's face.
He has a brown gotee and moustache, after twenty minutes of bowl-licking, and judging by the way he's handling his spoon, he's going to try for a beard. But his expression is clear and dry as an Arizona morning as he answers me.
"I have a very awake imagination."

My kid is awesome, I tell you.