Olivia, through the love of her Gram, has discovered the joy of drinking hot tea.
She loves hot tea, especially if she’s given a lemon drop to put in the tea and a spoon with which to lift the lemon drop out every so often so she can suck on it a bit before dipping it back into the tea.
I do not enjoy hot tea. I don’t like iced tea either, so there’s that. I don’t actually like any sort of hot beverage. Hot chocolate? Ick. Coffee? Gross. Hot tea? No, thank you. Just call me Amy Farrah Fowler.
But Olivia loves it all. She’ll sit at the kitchen table in just a pair of pants (she’s eight, it’s not a big deal) with her hot tea or hot chocolate (with lots of marshmallows, thanks) and act like she’s all sorts of high class since she’s sipping a warm beverage.
Tom often joins her at the kitchen table but usually insists she don a shirt since she’s now in mixed company. They’ll talk about their day, toast each other with their drinks (he’s a coffee man) and often ask me, the waitress of the coffee house, to bring cookies or muffins (we don’t have muffins. We never have muffins.) and laugh over the fact that they have no intention of leaving me a tip.
I find it amusing that even though I don’t drink hot tea, I now know how to make hot tea. I know how long to steep the tea bag and how long to microwave a cup of water to bring it to a boil.
All this for my fancy eight year old who now thinks she can't start her day without a cup of hot tea, thank you very much. And don’t forget the lemon drop.