I can kvetch and also share what I'm so excited about it scares me.
She gets comfy, holds the baby for a bit, kisses her head. She tells me We done good.
When our teacups are empty, she brushes cookie crumbs from her chin and rises to go.
I promise to keep in touch.
She promises to wink at me from Her throne, next month, where she'll be all dressed up and crowned - surrounded in pomp and circumstance - but still just Her, she reminds me. We agree that it's a good show every year, worth checking out.
She's out the door in a flurry of swishing, colourful robes.
The baby squawks and bangs on the table.
I put the teacups in the sink, humming Her latest tune.