Baby Kisses

Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Sightseeing

Harris was up at the crack of dawn. "Mister Brightperson said he's gonna take us to some fun places today."

"Brightman, Harris."

In his pajamas, Harris jumped up and down on the bed. "Is it time to go yet, Mommy?"

"Not yet, sweetie. I don't think anyone's up." Tooty stretched and grinned at her sweet little son. "Come give Mommy a hug." She held her arms open and Harris plopped into them.

"I love you, Mommy. You're the bestest!"

"Harris, you're the bestest, too!"

"I sure hope that lady with the red lips and the old people don't go with us. They're no fun."

Silently, Tooty agreed. "Hey, why don't you grab your storybook and I'll read to you for awhile. Then we'll get dressed."

"Okay." Harris jumped off the bed and darted to his backpack. As Tooty had known, before she finished reading he'd fallen back to sleep. Snuggling with him, she drifted, too.

Tooty glanced at the clock; seven. At least they'd gotten some more rest. She slipped from the bed to decide what she and Harris should wear for their special day. The dress she'd worn the night of the dinner with Monica and Miles' parents had been a disaster compared to their refined duds. She looked at her selection and laughed. She was a country girl through and through, no doubt about it. Chuckling, she grabbed a pair of Levis and peasant blouse with a draw string closure and headed into the bathroom for a shower. Harris walked in as she was tucking her blouse into her waistband.

"You look pretty, Mommy."

She slipped her belt with its buckle of polished stones into the loops of her jeans. "Thanks, honey. I laid some clothes out for you on the chair. Run get dressed and then come back and brush your teeth. We have a big day ahead of us."

Harris happily obeyed and Tooty gave herself one last glance in the mirror. I am who I am and I don't apologize. Instead of opting for boots, she slipped on tennis shoes—not quite a fashion statement. By the time she'd applied a little blusher, brows, and lipstick, Harris was back and talking a mile a minute. Tooty wet a comb and pulled it through his unruly curls.

Shortly before eight, she held Harris' hand and they followed the hallway to the living room and then passed through the dining room and into the kitchen. Myrna was bustling around opening cupboards and pulling out dishes. "Good morning," she said cheerily. "I'll have breakfast ready in a jiffy. Mr. Brightman said I was to make pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream for Harris."

Harris grinned, "Oh, boy!"

"Would you like the same, Tooty? I can make you an omelet if you prefer?"

"I'd love the pancakes and strawberries."

"Can I pour you a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Harris, would you like orange juice or apple juice?" Myrna asked, and walked to the fridge after she handed Tooty her coffee.

"I'd like orange juice."

Tooty raised an eyebrow.

"Please," he added.

"What can I do to help?" Tooty asked Myrna.

"Goodness, nothing. You're guests. Just take a seat at the bar."

Tooty pulled out bar stools and Harris climbed onto one. She glanced around the beautiful kitchen that had a hominess lacking in the rest of the house, and then watched Myrna's efficiency as she stirred batter, got the griddle just the right temperature, and created pancakes worthy of a blue ribbon.