My baby turns 19 today. So much for being a baby. I'm hopeful she'll never really grow up, though, because she's good at holding on to the best parts of being childlike. Eustacia gives people the benefit of the doubt, overlooks their flaws and loves them unconditionally. She isn't cynical or warn down by disappointment or vindictive.
She can be surprisingly impish now and then. She got her gift on Saturday, a shopping trip to Columbus and dinner in the city. She ordered duck, and her sister, who she typically tries to irritate, ordered salmon. Eustacia said, "My dinner eats your dinner," and the rest of us sat there pondering the brain that thinks in those terms.
The kid doesn't want a cake today but has asked for rice-krispy treats instead. Of all things. I offered to bake or provide her heart's desire, and this is what her heart wants. The particular stuff she's craving comes from a recipe a former neighbor gave us when all the neighborhood kids were little and played together in a pack.
So, I'll be making a batch today with butter scotch and chocolate and peanut butter, and my blood-sugar level will swirl out of whack just by my holding the big wooden spoon. And then Eustacia can taste her childhood, being childlike without being childish and remembering summer afternoons in the backyard at the same time she is planning for a wide-eyed future miles from home.