Yesterday when I hauled my achy body downstairs in the morning, a full, fresh pot of hazelnut coffee was a very welcome sight. Mr. December had gotten downstairs before me.
“Kids,” I said after I’d had my first sip, “Your father is a prince among men.”
“Why?” They asked.
“Because he makes me coffee in the mornings; When I come downstairs I can have a nice warm drink right away.” I said.
“And that makes him a prince?” K inquired.
“Because he made you coffee, which he was making for himself anyway?” She prodded further.
“Because he makes enough coffee for us both to have refills. And he does it every time without my having to even ask. Besides, it’s not the grand romantic gestures that make love last. It’s all the little things you do to make each other’s day even just a bit better.” I’ll admit I was pretty proud of squeezing in an important life lesson before we’d even had breakfast. I looked over the rim of my coffee cup at the kids, watching to see how they digested what I’d said. K spoke up first.
“Eema…” she paused as if looking for the right words, “I think maybe your standards are too low.”