January 9, 2017 (after school)

*Walking in the house, Isobel has had a sort of rough day; hurt her leg on the car, and then I told her it was too cold to play in the snow. She’s crying on her way into the house, throwing her gloves and boots, angry and sad…*

“Look, babe, let’s hug, have a tissue, I’ll make you a snack, then we can talk about your day, okay?”

“NO!”

“Okay.”

*She takes the tissue, wipes her face and says…*

“I’m gonna make you dinner. In my restaurant. I want to feel better so I’m going to cook for you, and then  you can cook for real, for me.”

“Okay, that sounds good! Where do you want me?”

“On the stairs, stay there. I have a Stair Restaurant.”

*She grabs a few bits of toy food from the living room and carefully and artfully sets them up on the volute- it reminds me of the show ‘Chef’s Table.’ I settle myself on the steps while she flies up to the playroom; immediately I hear banging and things being collected, then little footsteps at the top of the stairs. From behind and above me, she says…*

“It’s a Calm Restaurant. For you to not be starving in. Okay. Okay?”

“I got it. I’m calm.”

*Next thing, she loses control of the huge pile of toy food in her arms and it all comes bouncing down the stairs, so I quickly turn my surgical hip away, and get hit with about twenty pieces of plastic food. I hold up a few things that I managed to catch; an eggplant, half a cake, a spoon, and say…*

“THIS IS NOT CALM EATING! ALSO, I AM STARVING!”

“Hahahaha!”

faviken_2014_food_1

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