The year Maia was 2, we moved to town.At least twice a week, she and I would walk the many blocks to the Italian Pastry Shop, stopping enroute at Quick Sew to let Maia choose 3 more buttons for her collection.
Once there, it was a capuccino for me, steamed (frothed!) milk for her and maybe a pair of amaretti. A delicious time together, staring at the confections in the glass case, sorting the ever-growing pile of jewel-like buttons and then the walk home.
So picture this: the night that Maia is in the bath with her beloved pink, plastic tea set. The tiny room barely fits the tub along one wall, the toilet and the vanity with sink. She has carefully lined up the teacups along the edge of the tub.
Eschewing the teapot, she steps out of the tub and crosses to the vanity. The handle is vertical. One by one, she brings over the cups. She puts one hand on the top of the handle and the other below with a cup held in it. By the second or third cup, Jem and I realise that she's serving steam-pressured capuccinos a la The Italian Pastry Shop! 
