Earlier this week, J. and I were hanging out reading "lights," his beloved Highlights magazine, when I left him momentarily to staple a book back together. I was probably out of his sight for a minute or so, and that was obviously too long.
When I returned to the kitchen, I was met by dead silence and an empty container on the counter that had previously held a single, delicious apple empanada I was hoping to enjoy later in the day. And there was J., sitting quietly on the couch, surrounded by flecks of sugar and cinnamon, munching my empanada.
"What's that?" he asked when he saw me. As if he didn't know!
