“It’s chewy” he says. “That’s the texture that I love. Crunchy and crispy on the outside, but chewy on the inside.”
He’s talking about macaroons again.
“That’s when they’re the best. When they’re like that they’re like the good chocolate chip cookies you used to get at the school canteen”.
Needless to say, The Hungry One went to a different school to me.
But his relief is visible. He’d obviously been silently chasing the concept around his head for days. His face flickers with satisfaction-like when we found his lost glove and collectively remembered the French for take –away (emporter) under pressure at the front of a hot chocolate queue.
He’s found it, named it , and can now give it a home in his head. He’s happier, knowing where and what to look for from now on.
I occasionally find things he does so obtuse and insightful at the same time that I have to laugh days later.
Everything has a home and his is now with me. I found it and named myself with his. I’m happier knowing I just have to look sideways in our Citroen and I’ve got a bloody good reason to smile.
Now it seems when we get home I’ve just got to figure out how to make macaroons that are chewy and crunchy.