The kitchen is sweet with the smell of vanilla and bitter almonds. The dough is a crumbly-moist that pushes easily under the rolling pin. Mrs. Ohno is happy in the deepest place in her soul.
Her soul, soul.
"Mom, singing our debut song again," says her son, putting his chin in his hands. He swings his feet like a little boy, over and under the rungs of his chair. Her darling boy, her baby.
She smiles down at the dough. "I'm making Ninomiya-kun something special," she tells her son. "He's having a rough time of things and you know how he takes to mothering from his own mother. He's like a dear little porcupine."
"Nino is strange like that," her son agrees with a hum.
"Hand me that cookie cutter," she instructs, reaching for the flour. She has cookies to make for her strange, prickly other-son.
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Date: 2009-12-12 02:49 am (UTC)Her soul, soul.
"Mom, singing our debut song again," says her son, putting his chin in his hands. He swings his feet like a little boy, over and under the rungs of his chair. Her darling boy, her baby.
She smiles down at the dough. "I'm making Ninomiya-kun something special," she tells her son. "He's having a rough time of things and you know how he takes to mothering from his own mother. He's like a dear little porcupine."
"Nino is strange like that," her son agrees with a hum.
"Hand me that cookie cutter," she instructs, reaching for the flour. She has cookies to make for her strange, prickly other-son.