1. That cup of tea that the excellent women give you when you arrive at a toddler group. That cup of tea that I don't put down because it seems like such a liability in a room full of small anatomies hurtling about at knee height. That cup of tea I drink while it's still hot because Alec doesn't want my attention right now.
2. As we leave the house, it starts to rain heavily. But we don't care: Alec is under the rain covers and I'm going to change when we get home. As I puff up the first hill in the park, the sun comes out and shines up the last of the shower.
3. I love all the sharp crisp apples that are only worth eating in the autumn. They vanish from our fruit bowl like snow -- I eat them while I'm working, without really thinking about it. Often there isn't even a core left, and I have no idea how many there were to start with.
