Sunday morning

I've been pregnant three times {this is not an announcement of a fourth, so take your hand off your heart, Mom}, and each time, I swear I half expected to have the baby come out asking for coffee cake.

The first two pregnancies, I confess, were fueled by those cheap high-fructose containing Sarah Lee numbers, but both of those babies are healthy and smart, so go figure. I had wised up by the time I was pregnant with Anna, and would insist on some bakery-fresh version. Now, my ideal is my friend Liz's homebaked one from the Tate's cookbook.

But they also do a good job at a catering shop around here that the girls and I had breakfast at yesterday, and so I splurged and came home with a coffee cake. Which I promptly hid, in anticipation of Sunday morning- in my mind, the only legitimate time to have coffee cake. Particularly if you're not pregnant.

Imagine my horror, then, when my little one asked me this morning, "what's coffee cake?"

Thank goodness I had one on hand to show her.

I don't have one on hand anymore.

Sitting in the window seat with her, eating that cake, watching the wind pull the last of the leaves off the trees, was the perfect Sunday morning.

I hope Sunday is perfect for you,too. Thanks for reading.

tt