Baking Up Some Love

Today I woke up in need of cinnamon rolls.
Real cinnamon rolls.
The kind that you bake properly; from scratch. With dough. And mounds of cinnamon. And slabs of butter.

The kind I should have thought about making last night so I could get them semi put together before this morning's craving hit.

(But how was I supposed to know?)

In the midst of my cinnamon roll making, dough creating, madness, two little girls pranced into the kitchen. Both eager to see "What's Going On" and to be a part of the magic. With a couple of well-placed compliments tossed in a long the way: "Oh Mom, your cinnamon rolls are my favorite", "I think your cinnamon rolls will help my allergies go away, Mom. I'll probably need to eat quite a few." (Hmmmm...)

So here I am now, with time on my hands (approximately 40 minutes), and fingers itching to communicate. (Rise dough, rise).

The girls are now plopped in front of the TV, watching their current favorite "Ratatouille". Caedance is happily eating some dry cereal, while Ashlyn skirts around the rug to find a place for herself on the couch. It's not what they're doing that interests me at the moment; it's how they're doing it.

Ashlyn, skirting the rug, careful not to let her bare feet touch it.
Caedance, touching each piece of cereal to her upper lip before popping it in her mouth.

Quirks.
On display. In a moment of unguarded, unpretentious abandon. Hair "let down", being themselves.
Quirks.

Ashlyn deplores having her bare feet on a rug. I'm not sure if it's a testament to my extensive personal collection of cheap rugs that are tossed around our house; or if it is a universal aversion to all floor covering of the small and movable kind. All I know is, she creeps around the edge of them all if her feet are bare. In the morning, getting ready for school, the socks go on first. Every time.

Caedance, on the other hand, seems to have a fixation with touching food to her upper lip before eating it. Not every piece of food, thank goodness. Just select varieties. I'm not sure if she's smelling it, testing the texture, or just being odd. Quintessentially Caedance; how I love her. Pick up the food, tap it to the upper lip, put it in the mouth. Pick up, tap it, eat it. Interesting.

They seem to sense my observation from across the room and turn to see me watching them. They smile at me. Heads leaned towards each other, ear-to-ear grins plastered identically on each face. A smile that conveys love, joy, content.

They love me. Look at that sheer adoration in my direction! What a lucky lady I am to have two such-

"Mom, are the cinnamon rolls about done?"
"Can you go finish making them now?"

Oh.
I see.
There you go.

I'm loved. Yes.

But right now, cinnamon rolls have the adoration.