Yesterday the babies and I were slow to get moving. The Hubbie is away on a business trip, making the house seem extra quiet. So I decided to mix things up with our morning routine.
We headed to our local bagel spot and planted ourselves at a table on the shop's front sidewalk. The three of us shared a couple of cinnamon raisin bagels toasted with butter: Elsa in her highchair, gnawing on part of a bagel and being fed apple puree in between bites; Arlo, hands greasy with melted butter, eating and talking about airplanes in the sky and birds on the ground; and me, feeling pretty darn lucky to be so blessed with these two amazing little beings.
Saturday mornings just beg for family ritual. Maybe this will become ours or maybe we'll think of something else. Growing up, my family had lots of rituals. Probably my favorite was church Sunday morning followed by lunch out at a restaurant. It seems to me that it's not so much the extravagance of the ritual as it is the time together.
And my time with the babies on that Saturday morning - seeing them in their pjs at the sidewalk table, sharing yummy bagels with me - was priceless.