Whipped Cream

I thought I'd share a weekly outing with you that Sam and I enjoy together.

Our neighborhood Dominick's grocery store has a Starbucks in it, praise the Lord, and when we go, sometimes I'll treat myself to one as we shop. Months ago, we started getting to know a barista named Kathy, a woman a little younger then my mom with six children of her own. She took a shine to Sam, loving little boys, and decided he needed his own "coffee."

Kathy turned back from the register, grabbed a tall cup and filled it to the brim with whipped cream. On a good day, she or her other partner Lucy will drizzle it with chocolate or caramel sauce, pushing it towards Sam with a spoon tucked into it.

Sam thought he had died and gone to heaven. At barely 18 months he'd say "Coffee? Coffee? Whipped cream?" when we even DROVE by a Dominicks and quickly realized that stand alone Starbucks offer the same benefits.
So this morning, we'd just walked into the store, chosen a cart and rounded the corner when Kathy popped out from behind the counter and handed Sam his "coffee" with a huge smile.
Such a little thing makes us both so happy.