Roo made me a sandwich.

It was the best sandwich I ever ate. I could taste the love, the effort, the earnestness.

It was a half sandwich on whole wheat bread from Costco.  She cut the bread in two uneven halves with a butter knife.  It had mayo to the edges just like I like--thin, but covering a lot of surface area--and mustard in the same way on the other side.  No cheese.  I'm not really sure why not, but it didn't matter.  I just don't think it seemed like a cheese kind of day to her.

Nestled between those two pieces of bread was one gently folded piece of turkey.  Last week I cautioned her against using half a pound on one sandwich for herself--we've now gone to the other extreme.

I can't get over how sweet it was that my eight-slash-almost-nine year old made my lunch for me today because I was running late and mid-french braid in the bathroom.  What a sweetie pie.  I had a little misty-eye going when I ate it.

Sigh.