Tea for Two

August 12, 2024

A hush settles over the house at the start of quiet time. I tiptoe upstairs and tell my oldest, “It’s time.” Squeals of delight erupt. “Sh, sh, we don’t want to wake anyone,” I say. We climb as quietly as possible down the squeaky wooden stairs.  

“Which teapot would you like?” I ask.

“The white one.”

I set the white teapot on the stove, ready for its delightful purpose.

From the cream cupboard I take down the number-worn Pyrex measuring cup and measure 3 cups of water. Though not traditional and very un-British, I microwave the water for about 4 minutes. While the water heats, we pick traditional English breakfast tea, and Little One places the double tea packet into the pot. We wait for the microwave to finish and then I pour the hot water over the tea. Immediately we watch brown swirls rise to the top, and I am reminded that life is somewhat like a teapot: hot water surrounds us, and what is in our hearts rises to the top.

While the tea steeps, we ready our simple tea party. Bright green April Cornell teacups, gifts from grandma in my college years, grace the table along with a thrifted white pitcher for cream. Honey sticks, the highlight of this tea party and a recent gift from a kind friend, are placed carefully on each green plate.

I have not one cookie in the house nor one biscuit or muffin. Yet we are not ashamed or upset. Memories of my Little Tikes tea set cookies inspire a quick pretend tea biscuit; I spread golden grass-fed butter and friend-made strawberry jam on Aldi crackers. Mommy can’t have any because she’s now gluten free, but Little One doesn’t mind the solo treat.

The tea is ready, and we finish our touches to our spartan party. Mommy snaps a few pictures without altering the effect or the look. “Mommy, can you show my hands on your blog?” Little One knows our family rules. “Yes, sweetie,” I say.

This is real life. This is real time spent together. No hours of staging took place beforehand. No delicate baked goods, the product of meticulous skills, fill lavish plates. No, simply tea and honey sticks and jam-slathered crackers grace the table still littered with school and life.

Little One is ecstatic about time with mommy and profusely expresses sheer joy. She relishes the sneaky delight of spending time with mommy while others stay in quiet time spots.

I quiet my mind from the many things I’d like to do with “my time.” This time with Little One is a gift, myself laid down on the altar of submission. The bending of my will is hard at first, but never will I look back and regret this precious time with my child.

We pour cups of tea, swirling the creamy liquid with our honey sticks. Oops! Mommy’s honey sucker falls off. We giggle. We talk. We enjoy silence. Little One remembers not the struggles and stresses of the morning but grins ear to ear at this joyous time with mama.

Towards the end Mommy pulls out a current art project, and Little One looks on. Finally, Mommy says, “It’s time.” Little One quietly heads back upstairs without a protest.

May I never forget these moments of Tea for Two with my precious child.

-Ashley

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