Blurbs from the Burbs by Chickysara

It’s Sunday morning and T has come in to snuggle with me. Every morning, school day or not, he comes in for a snuggle—even if only for a few minutes. Weekends—especially Sundays—are sumptuous because there is no rush to get ready for school. We luxuriate under the covers and watch food shows, critiquing dishes and taking note of recipes we might like to try. He is an aspiring chef and often engages in cooking competitions with his friends in our kitchen (i.e. The Scrambled Egg Challenge and Chopped: The Top Ramen Edition). Watching The Cooking Channel under the covers—this is our “thing.” So, we are doing our thing, watching Bobby Flay make French toast and I take the opportunity to give T a big hug and smooch his baby-face. He tolerates my affection, eyes still on Bobby Flay, while I shower his face with kisses. “What’s it like to be adored?” I ask him. “What’s a dord?” he replies. “You know, adored. ” “A dord?” “Yes!—adored!” “I don’t know what a dord...