Saturday, September 7, 2013

I Dream of Dairy

Last night, I had a dream that my dad came over and wanted to fix us dinner.  This is always a special treat--he is excellent in the kitchen--and he always fixes a great, nostalgic, meal from my childhood.  I was sitting at the table playing with Baby when he brought over a bowl of freshly shredded American cheese mixed with ice.

"What is that for?" I asked.

"Dinner." He responded plainly.

"But, I can't eat dairy." I was puzzled.

"I know." He just stood there, staring blankly at me.


"Okay.  There won't be any dairy."

"But that's a bowl of shredded cheese..."

"And ice." He added proudly.

And then I woke up.

Going dairy free for Baby wasn't as hard as I thought it would be--thanks to my husband, who happens to be an incredible and thoughtful cook.  He has made sure there is always something yummy for me to eat, but I still dream (literally) of my beloved cheese.  Most dreams end with me realizing--in horror--the mistake I've made.  I awake filled with panic and regret.  I guess my brain is in mommy mode 24/7.

But, I just can't stop chuckling at the image of my dad standing there, proudly basking in the glow his iced cheese.

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