I woke up at about 9:45 this morning, about half an hour earlier than I wanted to. I was alone in the room, but I woke up because of the palpable air of panic in the house. At 3 minutes to ten, Jordana came in the bedroom and sort of stood there shifting her weight.

“Home Depot. Toys R Us. Brownies don’t look done. Are you, y’know, finished sleeping?”

So I got up, made some coffee and said, “Give me ten minutes to get through the news and stuff and then I’m all yours.” “Sure, no problem.” Then, about thirty seconds later. “Um, seriously, I think we need to cook these brownies longer…”

It’s childish to assume you can set parameters around things like anxiety. Jordana’s parents are coming tonight to our opening, they are going to comment on everything from her outfit to the lighting to the language to, well, to the brownies. And although I think they’re funny, for Jordana, these comments are real.

So, I closed the laptop, heated up the oven to cook the brownies another fifteen minutes (they just came out a second ago and they’re perfect now) and we went to get the last minute props we were missing.

Sometimes loving someone is prioritizing away a tiny little thing. For me though, I generally don’t make any sacrifices or do any work without expecting tons of credit. Which is why I write this blog.