Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Breakfast Date

A cute picture of the boys from a few days ago.

We pushed our trays into an empty booth at McDonalds. He unwrapped his breakfast sandwich and I nibbled on my oatmeal. The restaurant was humming with the voices of regulars. An entire section of the dining room was filled with blue haired retirees. Their conversation meandered between local politics to hunting techniques. They sipped black coffee and gazed out the window between swigs.

Connor and I sat in silence. He woofed down a biscuit, crumb parcels dripping from his chin, littering the tabletop.

I cleared my throat, “So, how’s it going?”

"Good," he announced, barely looking up before offering his perfunctory response.

Grasping for more, I peppered him with more questions about everything from school lunch to his school bus companions. For me, our breakfast was not a social occasion, but a fact finding mission. Connor had been shutting me out from his little world. I thought a date over a breakfast sandwich could reopen that door.

As the morning progressed, I'd say at least the door is cracked. Connor divulged a few tidbits from school and a some silly anecdotes. I soaked in all his words, trying hard to focus on all the details.

As we walked out, I draped my arm over his shoulder, grateful for a start.

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