A rite of passage

I think I've mentioned before that when my parents visit, they bring my kids their favorite "treat" ... gas-station cappuccino. They seriously LOVE it, but it's not something we let them have any other time.

So a few weekends ago, Nathaniel asked, "Hey, can't THIS thing make cappuccino?"

He knew darn well it could, since I make capp in it a couple of weekends a month, so he pulled out a mug and class began.

(Yes, he's 10. Please send all the email telling me what a terrible parent I am to momoftheyear@yahoo.com)

He selected his K-Cup with great care.

He placed it in the Keurig as if he were setting a delicate egg back in its nest.

He closed the top and then looked at me for reassurance that he was doing well so far.

I told him he was going gangbusters and he could go ahead and move his mug to the platform. (He's pre-selected a mug he painted at Y camp last summer.)

He pressed the Start button and then watched, waiting for the magic to happen.

After a couple of seconds, it told him it was brewing.

He watched it brew until the very last drop trickled into his mug.

He'd followed my instructions to the letter, and he was rewarded with a perfect cuppa capp.

And you couldn't have found a happier 10-year-old in the city that day. Even when he had to add four pieces of ice to it to be able to drink it.

He hadn't had any since then until ... I was folding clothes upstairs yesterday morning when I heard Nathaniel yell, "JAKE! YOUR CAPPUCCINO'S READY!"

So apparently he's now taking orders.