Cuppy

Whenever we drive past a Starbucks, Clementine asks me "Cuppy mama?" (She's combining "cup" and "coffee" adorably). And really, who am I to say no. I don't want to crush her little spirit. So I stop and get my daily cuppy.

Now she has started playing Barista. In the backyard she picks up a rock, pretends to pour into from my tea kettle potted plant then brings the rock to me. "Cuppy!" she tells me.
"Is hot," she warns.