Yesterday we enjoyed a quick visit from the Scotts Valley Purnells. It consisted of their usual Firestone fix, some denim shopping, and an adventurous creek walk. Watching newly minted 4-year-old Bry Bry brave the concrete wall “steps,” above the creek that actually has water in it, was a bit of a nail-biter. Jakey taught him how to dab.
Afterward we went back to the shop before they got back on the road. In his usual fashion, Jacob crept over to the big blue tin of Danish butter cookies someone had given James. I take the tin and kneel down so Bryan can get a good look at what’s inside. I name off everything that’s left and try to explain that they all taste the same. He’s overwhelmed by the decision– he grabs his head with two hands and walks away. “I just can’t decide.” I coax him back as I’ve got very little patience for indecision. We’re talking cookies here– not peace in the Middle East.
He comes back and I name his choices: pretzel-shaped, dog-poop-shaped, or round. That’s all that’s left.
A moment of consideration.
He attempts to make off with an entire paper sleeve of “dog-poop” cookies.
Seriously, I could sell ice to Eskimos.