21 January, 2014
It was one of those moments. The kind where you pull out all of your worst parenting moves because you are desperate for a certain child to behave. And then you hear that he didn't listen as well as he really should have and you just feel so darn tired of it that you decide the only thing to do is to say no donut as you had warned. And you follow through, despite your better judgement. And you feel sort of like shit about it but you stick to your guns because you are just not sure what the hell else to do at that moment. And you feel a little bit less than whole because of it.
Then you overhear them in the back, and they are each offering him part of their donut. Not because they were told to but because that is the thing they knew to be right. They would only get the donuts themselves if they were allowed to each give some of theirs to him. They would not feel the joy if he had to feel the pain. And so they did. Two donuts, three boys, one overwhelmed Mom with a heart full of pride.
On the good days, I am pretty sure that the world would be better off if it was being run by people under 10.