Explaining Divorce to My Three-Year-Old

Baby, when the toast goes cold, the butter will not spread. The daffodil fat just sits on stiff bread. You can make it work, sure. Smear on strawberry jam, mash an avocado, fry an egg and let the residual heat warm you. You can reheat toast and endure endless toughness. Of course, you can bite into sad breakfast, again and again. A breakfast too many are told is marriage. As if women were cereal, a hot croissant. But believe me, honey, at some point just sweep the crumbs into your cupped hand and let go.