One day, we ran out of the coffee pods for our coffee maker. We had our French press, but the coffee grinder broke too. I heard clattering in the kitchen. Looking in, I saw my son, six-years-old, standing on a wine box, a mortar and pestle in his hands, grinding the coffee beans himself. “I’m making you coffee, Mom.”
Sometimes I feel like I could hand grind coffee for the entire book world, but nobody is going to run up and kiss me.
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And since you can’t kiss me, you could go to Words Are Art, and see the CD I did the cover and inserts for.
Marta Pelrine-Bacon 
Oh my gosh, what a sweet boy! That is so cute! š What a great story!
Hey, if you wanna hand grind me some coffee, I’ll run up and kiss you! LOL
And that picture is pure horror you know. š
The only reason that picture doesn’t horrify me is that I know the cup got filled with coffee soon after.
And yes, my boy is a sweetie. He also knows how mom is like without coffee!
I don’t know … if you made coffee for me I’d be tempted to kiss ya. But you wouldn’t want that. Trust me.
No. I wouldn’t want that because I wouldn’t want your wife to come after me.