I was dragging my feet all morning. I was watching the clock and moving a little bit slower than was absolutely necessary. Part of me hoped that something would come up to make it impossible for me to go. Or, I would look up and it would be, so sad, too late.

I almost went so far as to wish one of my kids would throw up, the ultimate excuse infallible.

But I didn’t relish telling my husband that I had somehow missed the mommy group I was supposed to go to today.

I knew I could come up with an explanation that would be acceptable to any other Mom, but not my husband. He knows me too well. To him I am saran wrap. He sees right through me.

This is one of the reasons I’m terribly glad I married him. It’s healthy for me. And, like today, sometimes healthy tastes like a disagreeable kale salad.

At any rate, I arrived at the predetermined coffee shop at about the last possible moment. And my anxieties subsided when no one was there. Actually, I felt my spirits soar.

“Oh, well!” I thought, “At least he can’t say I didn’t try!”

And so I got a coffee and sat down with the kids.

At this moment, when I’ve already committed to a table and a for-here cup, another mother shows up with her son and we get to talking. And then one of her friends shows up with her daughter.

So, we had our own little mommy hour, and the universe contrived to make my husband correct once again, because I had fun. I’ll even go so far as to say that I needed that.

Best cappuccino I’ve had in this city, yet, too.