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Aspaldi ataratako argazki bat barriro prozezatuta, beste toke bat emonez!
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Una foto de hace un tiempo procesada de nuevo dandole otro toque!
Morning sunshine pours through the kitchen windows and on to the bench. "Dadda...tits" (as embarrassing as this is when in public, I know she means toast)...the process begins.
Bread lowers into the toaster, the sound of heating elements drowned out by her pleading to be lifted up on the bench. This is her bench. It’s kept clear for cooking as much as there’s room for her.
Flicking through the "Secret to good macaroons", also known as 'bibbies (bickys/biscuit) book' in as much a morning ritual for her as coffee is to her parents.
Watching her read/babble to herself while turning page to page, I soak in every detail. Her once loose sleep suit, now well filled and the way her toes curl when she turns each page. Her tongue flicks her teeth, battling with words but it's her hair that holds my attention.
Curls at the back and straight on top, a combination not often seen. A fountain pony, a whimsical alternative, not by choice but determined by the length of her fringe. Her hair is not yet done, but to her father, it's already perfect...oh to have such complete freedom with your appearance.
The sound of toast popping cannot be described but her reaction can be. It’s pure excitement. The book, previous tenderly held is thrown aside like yesterdays news as cries of "Tits, tits" compete with clapping hands. Breakfast almost ready .A humble piece of toast carried across the kitchen to the two-year-old equivalent of trumpet fanfare.
Butter applied then Vegemite, a classic combination. Breakfast has arrived.
A morning performance, each player essential in their roles. Her smile tells me this process come ritual is no longer business but everyday play.
ODC: PAIR, PLAY, IN THE KITCHEN, THE EVERYDAY, WHIMSICAL, BREAKFAST, AND GLASS