We slept in a bit this morning and walked down the street to the bread shop to pick out a breakfast treat. I remember doing this 25 years ago - - when mom and papi would drive from our little rural pueblo into the big city, and we were allowed the treat of our choice.
I don't think that the bread shops have changed a bit since then- - the same breads and cakes stacked on top of square trays; the same metal thongs hanging up next to the round platters; the same long lines of customers with their trays piled high with bread treats to take home to their own families.
This time around, though, I'm not the child choosing;
I'm the mama facilitating the choosing.
That's kind of strange,