With the butter knife hovering mere millimeters above the smooth glaze, my son shrieked, “DON’T!” I could only watch in slow motion as my out of sync hand-eye coordination exacerbated the situation. But does a neatly halved pastry warrant the fuss?
But in the eyes of my little guy, cracked glaze was akin to derailed peace negotiations.
For the sake of civility (and to get to work on time) I waved the white paper towel and patched up the glaze.
With renewed happiness all around, and only slighted cooled coffee, life was good again.
This made me reminisce about my daughter at that age. She would have fits over, um, altered soy yogurt surfaces ignorantly disrupted by her naïve parental newbies.
More often than not my husband and I would exercise pathetically poor judgment and stick a spoon into the smooth surface of our daughter’s snack.
With backs turned, we’d quickly smooth out the surface and present the “new” yogurt, sans Jackson Pollock lines cross-cross apple-saucing the surface. This was usually met with full approval.
Fit forgotten and a fresh cup of coffee poured, we’d resume peace talks and marvel at the delicate balance of it all.
Of course, teachable moments can be found even among donut crumbs and soy yogurts…till reality sets in. When faced with a deadline at work, a healthy dose of parental backpedaling and resourceful picking of worthy battles just seems more reasonable at times.
Life around our kitchen table is full of peace talks, embargos, and concessions. And that’s fine with me. I’m glad my guys are so expressive.
And while I may meet some deadlines by the seat of my pants and with glaze on my sleeve, I still can’t wait to get home and embrace their sticky messes all over again.