Dear Reese,
We eat Peanut Butter Ritz Bitz together at 7 pm. You sit on the kitchen island while I stand in front of you. You see me eat one, so you feed the next one to me from the pile on the countertop. This is very funny to you. I have to tell you ‘no thank you’ as you try to shove more in my mouth.
Outside, there is a thunderstorm. A severe thunderstorm, by all the automated warnings in my text messages and email. Our condo lights flicker on and off. Then off, off, off. Then on. I mentally go through a checklist of what we would do if we lose power for hours. I know where all the flashlights are. I know which lights are currently on in your bedroom to make sure I turn them off when I put you to sleep. If I don’t, they could be back on with the power in the middle of the night.
It doesn’t matter; the power stays on. The oven light blinks, begging to be reset. We watch the deluge and finish eating our Ritz Bitz.
Love,
Mama