Lovely Daughter #1 and her Med School Bestie have moved in with The Hubby and me. They are studying their brains out for the "Step One," a comprehensive exam given to all med students nationwide at the end of their second year.
They have taken over our kitchen table and are using it like a partners' desk:
As I walk by, I hear conversations that sound like this:
"I realized something about the hemoglobin hematocrit oxydiphasephoroxyhydrochloride stem cell mast response."
"Yeah? Is it the difluorochronomessupitness whatsit thingummy that presents in a 70-year-old patient with cherry-red effluvia?"
"Oh, did you get that one already?"
"Yeah. It's the alternative mass spectrometer randomosity that is often accompanied in geriatric geriotronosis."
"Oh. I knew it had to be something like that."
I have no idea what they're saying. But they're studying their little backsides off. I've never seen anybody work so long, so hard, so diligently, for anything.
So I wash dishes, quietly remove the noisiest of the pugs' squeaky toys from the room, and shove yummy food under their studious noses at appropriate times.
There's no thing that can't be made just a little bit better with home-baked corn muffin madeleines:
And four kinds of berries and two kinds of jam:
And tomato tart with caramelized onions and three kinds of cheese:
Because if I had to memorize stuff like this, which they have to:
I'd lie down on the freeway and wait for a Mack truck to take me out. But these kids just keep plugging away, day after day. And they still have weeks of studying left to do.
The least I can do is make them cookies.
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