Travis and Henry are away, doing boy stuff. Probably poking people on their right shoulder, then quickly running to the left.
Which leaves Clara and I to play at home.
In the kitchen actually.
It’s ok to have Pumpkin French Toast on a Saturday morning.
Any morning, for that matter. With a side of whole milk.
Especially if it’s just the gals, chatting about the boys, sipping coffee and flipping our hair back and forth.
Just me and my gal.