A Day in the Life

 

M is the kind of kid who's happy in his routines. He's only two -- though he'll tell you he's two and a half, and he'd be right -- but he enjoys a cup of coffee in the morning with his mom and dad. For those of you who are worried drinking coffee will stunt his growth, the writer would like to invite you to measure his parents. For those who are conditioned to regard what they read with a healthy dose of scepticism, you're right in assuming the coffee is M's special decaffeinated brew: ground chicory, figs, malted barley and acorns. He has his own M-sized mug and all. He likes his coffee and his kitsch, like a true Rioux.

Like his mom, he enjoys his baths. Morning baths, mid-day baths, meltdown baths. The occasion doesn't really matter. He'll take his bath with bubbles, or without, but he has his favourite companions: playmobil Santa, the handless Spartan, the ferry boat, the Dunkleosteus. You know. The usual suspects. For the record, his mom prefers to bathe alone.

M likes to help in the kitchen. He's good at chopping herbs and checking for quality control. He's not afraid to let it be known if something falls below his standards of satisfaction. Too sour = frown. Too juicy = frown. Camera too close to face = frown and flail of fist. 

At the end of any day, M likes to rest on his favourite pillow: Mommy's chest. He is a contended little chap. A palm tucked under the neck-line goes a long way to keeping him so.