I’m on my third cup of coffee, and am still in my jammies.
Jamie’s home from three weeks of traveling for work, and is making bacon and eggs in the kitchen.
Max is sitting on the other end of the sofa, reading his new LEGO Club magazine and brainstorming what he wants for Christmas. (Spoiler alert: It’s basically all LEGO Star Wars)
One of my favorite Spotify playlists, a 70s, 80s, 90s “Classic Rock” collection, is playing.
And I realize… this is how I pictured my grown up Saturday mornings.
When I was a kid, like we all did, I had visions of what it was like to be a grown-up, and basically none of those things have come true, except maybe the awesome husband/kid thing. It still blows my mind to think that when I was growing up, my parents didn’t have all the answers like I thought they did, and that maybe, just maybe, they were finding their way just like I am now.
But this morning? With no TV on, breakfast sizzling in the kitchen, and a cat curled up at my side? This is just how I pictured it.