Whipped Cream, Snow Moon

"I notice we've been eating a lot of whipped cream lately," Peter says.
"Yeah, what's up with that?" I say.
"It's just that we've been having whipped cream with waffles in the morning, whipped cream and apricot jam with coconut and hazelnuts for dessert..."
"Yeah, what's up with that?" I say. "I mean why?"
"Does there have to be a reason?" he asks as he sandwiches two stroopwaffels together with whipped cream."
Then he goes on that monologue about how much better and cheaper the stroopwaffles are in Amsterdam and I look at the ingredients on the ones he bought here, which are mostly evil, and oddly enough include lupin flour. (Don't eat it if you're allergic to peanuts.) "Buy the organic ones with maple syrup," I lecture him. "I don't care how expensive they are." Our son is listening to this harangue. Wonder what he thinks of it all?

Is it because I'm ovulating, or the snow moon with a lunar eclipse taking bites out of my spine, aching back, flushed cheeks, hormone whoopsies? I don't know. I just want a big bite of of that stroopwaffle whipped cream pie in the sky. Organic, of course.