Breakfast Burrito

Briar likes to supplement her diet with regional Mexican cooking from various hand-picked kitchens. I know this because when I return from the school bus drop-off, the spotted dog is wiggling apologetically, bending and scraping to cover up for her wayward friend. The black dog gets back maybe twenty minutes later. She takes her time. There's no rush and she doesn't bark at the door when she's back. We're in the kitchen making the third cup of tea and listening to a tedious report on the new giraffe at the Boston Zoo (called Sox after the World Series champs). All affect of guilt has evaporated but I don't have to be Sherlock to spot the chimichanga breath from twenty paces, and the self-satisfied way she's licking her chops.

Little took me to Target for her Halloween costume (she's going as a Ninja Turtle, with black leggings, a huge Turtle-power t-shirt, striped knee socks and red head band) and ended up buying spooky-themed tchotchkis for the eight people in her advisory. She spent most of the evening decorating the bags with scary stickers and filling them up with skull necklaces, pumpkin straws, orange play-doh and Reese's caramel peanut cups. "This is so much fun" she said as we wolfed down spaghetti bolognese at nine o'clock. She is such a kind person. I must remember this.