I'm all in.

and also yes to bea seeing her swerve hard away from the baby food aisle. sneering in tandem with her at the applesauce and at cans of watery soup. bea teaching her how to season things so they don’t taste like powerlessness and neglect and hunger and rotting away

sighing indulgently when ava appears with another box of cereal to mow through in one night. bea brushing granola pieces off the bed without a word while ava sits cross-legged on her crumpled-up side with a book in her lap, one hand pressing the pages flat and the other elbow-deep in a box of chocolate hazelnut granola. scattering light crumbs everywhere

just yes to ava loving food and approaching it with so much joy it makes beatrice realise that there is actually something holy in a silce of orange, in a snack cake and in granola crumbs and haribos in the shape of little frogs.

“Because of your favorite part.”

"When he says, ‘Tell my wife I love her very much . . .’ ” Vanessa says.

“And then he says, ‘She knows,’ ” Joan says.

“Yeah,” Vanessa says. “That’s it. That’s the best part of that song. But do you think she knows? Do you really think she knows?”

“She knows,” Joan says. “She absolutely knows.”

“Okay,” Vanessa says. “I can live with that.”

— Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid

atmosphere: a love story | taylor jenkins reid