I drag my feet to the kitchen and then slide onto one of the stools near the island counter, yawning and rubbing my head and butt unladylike, and then rest my head on the countertop. I sheepishly smile when I look up to find my mom in baggy clothes, a loose bun and flour on her face. The smell. in the house is delicious... very chocolaty.
"Good morning, sweetie." She grins. She is baking choco-chip brownies. "Morning, mommy..." I grin back when she chuckles, ruffling my bed hair with her flour-clad hand.
“Mom!” Shrieking, I scrunch up my nose and lean back. I dust off the top of my head when she throws her back and laughs. I pout when she removes a tray and put a fresh batch of brownies on the tables, in front of me. I take a whiff and urge to moan.
Seeking as an opportunity, I discre
