I couldn’t help but smile as I watched my teenager eat an entire Boston Cream donut in just T – W – O bites. “Did you even taste it?” I asked Garrett.
Watching Garrett enjoy this delicacy brought me back nine years ago to my parent/teacher conference with Garrett’s second grade teacher. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Austin. I hope Garrett didn’t get sick from eating the donuts. I didn’t realize he had never had one before,” Mrs. L. explained, blushing like any 21-year old teacher would. She continued, “Before I knew what was happening, he had already eaten four.”
“Four donuts? Tell me Garrett did not eat four donuts!” I’m not sure if I was more embarrassed that my eight-year old ate four donuts or if I was infuriated that a teacher would allow that to happen.
Although our conference lasted another 12 minutes, I heard nothing after ‘four donuts.’ My mind shifted from wondering if Garrett was meeting grade level expectations to worrying about how he was feeling after consuming his week’s worth of sugar in five-minutes, to what possible consequence I was going to hand out the minute I walked in the door.
Was I going to have Garrett write a letter of apology to his classmates for being so selfish?
Should I have Garrett add up the amount of sugar he consumed in five minutes?
Perhaps I was going to have Garrett buy a dozen donuts to deliver to a nursing home.
I knew I had to do something . . . Why was it taking the principal so long to announce the end of our conference?
Although I live only 7 minutes from the school, it felt like it took forever to get home. I still didn’t know what I was going to say to my donut monster. I just assumed that my parenting instincts would kick in – – on the spot.
My mother-in-law was staying with my kids and I knew I would need to exercise self-control and wait until she left for the interrogation to begin . . .
The front door was barely closed behind me when Garrett announced, “Did you know that donuts aren’t donuts? You know those balls that we get sometimes? Those aren’t donuts; they’re called munchkins!”
Was he actually angry?
Garrett went on, “I had real donuts today! And . . . and . . . and . . . they were SOOOOOOOOO good! You have to try one!”
Immediately my parenting instinct kicked in. “We should go out for donuts this weekend!”