Lately I haven’t been spending as much time and money at Starbucks as I have in the past. Since giving up soda I’ve upped my daily coffee intake, and my lovely leopard print wallet can’t handle the burden of more Starbucks on a daily basis.
Don’t you worry; I’ve been coping with making my own coffee at home.
Hannah on the other hand hasn’t been able to wean herself of that Starbucks fix. After the museum we headed to get ice cream. The ice cream place my brother chose was located next to a Starbucks. Hannah refused to get ice cream. “NO, I’m having Starbucks with my Sarah. That’s what we do.” There was such force in her little voice that no one attempted to change her mind. What can I say? The kid’s got damn good taste; seriously, just take a look at her sugar daddy bling in the picture.
I didn’t bother to mask my delight in her choice. I gleefully grabbed her hand and rushed into Starbucks, leaving the boys on their own for ice cream.
She stood on her tippy-toes and ordered her drink from the barista, “I want a girl, pink frappuccino. And I’ll be over there in that green chair.” She then flounced off and settled into her chair.
I beamed with pride as I paid the barista. This beautiful child, I’m lucky enough to call my niece, is going to make a kick ass yuppie someday. Someday very, very soon. And when she is, I’m going to insist she buy her favorite auntie an espresso machine, complete with a sexy, shirtless male barista to work the damn thing.