Thursday, March 5, 2009
After a somewhat stressful Trader Joe's experience today involving tears, threats, a lost shopping bag, Nate nearly chipping a tooth, and a close call with a precarious stack of Mac & Cheese boxes... I decided that a run through the Starbucks drive-thru was in order. As I pulled away from the window with my tall nonfat decaf caramel sauce mocha, I heard my 18-month-old son pipe up from the backseat, clear as a bell:
Mocha! Mocha! Mommy Mocha!
I would have told you that I'm not your typical Starbucks-addicted Seattleite. But when your baby knows the word mocha, it's time to admit you might have a problem. And now if you'll excuse me, I just remembered that my frozen edamame is melting in the back of the van.