Indigo hadn’t cared about her results, and instead dove into wanting to start her art classes right then and there.
I opened the notification to see how she’d done. Earth Science she tested out of, while Biology she didn’t. The sa went for Chemistry, and Physics. It then asked which of the three courses she wanted to take. It had several warnings about needing more math before taking Physics.
Chemistry had several smaller subjects that made up the course. My assumption was that it was because we didn’t have a lab to do experints with. One of the sub-subjects caught my eye: Baking, the art of chemistry.
I signed her up for that one, and pulled the supply list, which honestly was a shopping list. We could bake together, and learn all about chemistry. Hopefully it would be fun.
The Cat twisted in my arms and leaped off my shoulder to the couch. “I do not want paint on my fur.”
I blinked and tore myself away from my phone.
Paint was everywhere.
Bright orange was all over the table, Indigo, and the basket of supplies.
“So pretty!” The tube rested in Indigo’s claws, as she squeezed it again. More oozed out the top, and she dropped the tube.
She touched it with her claws, and smacked it.
It splattered everywhere, and her eyes practically glowed with glee.
“Need more colors!” She dove back to the basket, but I beat her to it, pulling it away.
“Let’s hold off on using the paints until your classes. I can help you with reasonable amounts of paint.”
“Awww…” Indigo dipped her pointed tail into the paint and traced a wobbling circle on the table.
ntally, I thanked Betty for the ability to clean most of this ss up. So things, like the laptop, I’d wipe down, and hoped it would be ok. I set the basket on the floor and it vanished. Sa with the tube Indigo forgot, about along with the cap.
I grabbed my laptop and a roll of paper towels rose on the table. Cleaning the paint splatters took a little, while Indigo kept painting orange circles with her tail.
It reminded that while Indigo knew a lot, underneath all of that she was a kid still. She needed to play, even though she preferred to study.
“Do you want to keep painting?” I asked, once all the orange paint was gone from my laptop.
“Yes!” she said with a happy chirp. “More colors?”
The basket appeared near my feet, and I pulled out blue, yellow and red. For each color she received a small dab. I also pulled the sketchbook out and placed a large sheet in front of her.
“If you paint on the paper, we can hang it up on the fridge,” I explained.
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“On the fridge?” her head titled sideways.
“It’s a human thing to decorate your ho with artwork.” I didn’t know how else to describe that you put your kids' artwork up, even if it wasn’t the greatest. Indigo wasn’t my kid, biologically, but she was in most other ways. So, her artwork should go on the fridge.
Indigo nodded and then stared at the paper like it was the most important thing she’d seen in a long ti.
I set the laptop back down, this ti closed, and again made sure the basket had vanished before joining the Cat on the couch.
The next morning, I hung the ‘art’ on the fridge with so magnets that Betty pulled out of sowhere.
Indigo had figured out a dark green, and painted sothing like the solstice tree with different blobs of paint for decorations. It was cute.
But the better part was Indigo.
She flew around the kitchen, chirping loudly as I hung it up. She landed perfectly on the island, and then jumped to the counter. “I make eggs.”
“I’ll get the bacon in the oven, along with so croissants.” Last night, I’d placed a large grocery order, along with a list of supplies for the coffee shop side of things. It’d co in, and now we had plenty to work with.
I’d snuck a few surprises in.
The Cat joined us as the bacon ca out of the oven, and Indigo finished stirring the scrambled eggs one last ti.
“Slls good in here,” he said, eyes only for the crispy bacon.
I set the croissants on the island, nice and warm, slling of butter and bread.
“What are those for?” he asked.
“Sandwiches,” I said, as I cut one open for my plate, and placed so bacon on it along with the scrambled eggs and a slice of cheese. “Do you want one, or everything just on your plate?”
He shook his head a little. “I’ll try one, if I can have more bacon on the side.”
“Just on my plate,” said Indigo. Her plate was easier, so I quickly pulled it together before putting it in front of her. Then I made the Cat a sandwich, with a few extra slices of bacon on the side.
The sandwich lted in my mouth, or at least the croissant did. Buttery and flaky, then the crunchy bacon and the cheese, plus eggs, were perfection for so early in the day.
The Cat’s sandwich didn’t last long, and then he finished his bacon. “The bread is good.”
Indigo nodded but said nothing, as she carefully ate from her plate. Her manners went all dainty again.
I finished my latte as I snagged a second croissant just to eat, but didn’t bite into it yet. “What does today look like?”
“Deliveries,” grumbled the Cat. “And then a custor, maybe two. The book wasn’t clear this morning.”
Indigo chirped. “Today is class.”
“What are you taking?” I asked. The paint had absorbed her all evening.
“Maths.” She wiggled her tail back and forth. “Need maths.”
I nodded slowly. “Well, if you have questions, let know.”
Hopefully, she wouldn’t have a ton, though if I needed to figure it out I would. I’d downloaded the parent study guides for the next couple of math and science subjects last night, just in case. I needed to read them.
Indigo launched herself off the island and flew, presumably, to the living room.
“Coffee?” asked the Cat.
“Yes. I need another cup as well,” I added as we left the counter. I kept my croissant with and set it down on the counter. “What sounds good to you?”
“Strong,” mumbled the Cat, still staring at the croissant.
“I’ll split it with you,” I said. I tore it in half and pushed part of it in his direction.
For him I kept it simple, espresso and a dab of heavy cream. More espresso than cream, while I made another latte for myself.
The children’s area was the first thing I spotted in the shop. Brightly colorful, with plenty of low shelves and the bean bag.
I finished my half of the croissant with a few bites. Again, it lted in my mouth, perfectly flaky. These needed to be part of more of our breakfasts. I even had a few chocolate ones stashed in the back of the freezer.
Even before the door flung open, I guessed who would be our first custor this morning. There wasn’t a chance I’d get this one wrong.
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