Earlier this morning.

Little J, sitting on the couch: Mommy, I spilled tea on your fancy pillow.

What should follow is me rushing out of the kitchen with my perfectly fluffed up hair and make up, in high heels and apron, armed with a cloth and homemade cleaning solution. Scrubbing off the stain from my designer pillow while saying something like “Gosh Darn it child. I cannot leave you alone even for a minute”. Then returning to the kitchen to finish making home made scones.

Instead I continued to type comments on a blog I was admiring at that moment and without even looking up I calculated the damage. One IKEA pillow purchased because Little J wanted it and I was too tired to argue after an epic trip to Seattle and hours spend in the kingdom of self serve furniture. One cup of tea. One comment that if I don’t finish typing in next five seconds I will never remember what I was about to say.

So I said: Don’t worry about it, it will dry.

Guess the only thing fancy in my house is my tea drinking son’s vocabulary.