Then I asked the question I only ask if I am in a generous mood, “Do you want squares or triangles?” Today, the Universe obviously wanted to punish me, because he responded, “Circles.”

When I cut it into triangles anyway, telling him I couldn’t do circles, Reid disappeared and some sort of terrible banshee-like monster arrived in his place. “Cirrrrrrrrcles! Cirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcles! Can’t eat this! Cirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcles!” Oh, the tears. The wailing. The kicking of feet and pounding of fists.

So I used my little butter knife to carve those triangles into four disgusting little squashed, half-oval, half-circular sandwich morsels. That did the trick, and Reid calmed down…then ate, as usual, about one and a half bites of the whole sandwich.

“Are you eating candy up there?” Silence.

“ARE YOU EATING CANDY UP THERE????”

Suddenly I realize they can’t answer me because their mouths are too full of candy. But all too soon they swallow and the silence is broken:

“I’m not but they are!” “You were too!” “You said you wouldn’t tell!” “You promised!” “Stop yelling at me!” Crying and screaming over each other. At this point I’m wishing I had just let them have the damn candy.

Friend goes home. Kaylee and Colleen sulkily eat dinner. TV and magazine go unwatched and unread. But I think I’ll have that glass of wine now.

As I pushed Reid on the swings, I finally had a chance to ask Aidan how kindergarten treated him today. He said he had a great day. I asked what his favorite thing was and he replied that it was when each child took a turn telling the class what they did over the weekend.

Oh, wow. Mentally I flashed over the events of Aidan’s weekend. On Friday he had swim team practice, followed by a movie at home. On Saturday he scored a goal in his soccer game, then spent the night at his Grammy’s house as a special late-birthday celebration. Said celebration involved ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery, pizza, fudgsicles and something called chocolate lava cake. On Sunday our whole family went to a local orchard and picked apples. Then Aidan ran in a cross-country invitational and placed second in his age group.

I wondered which of these special activities he would have chosen to share with his class.

“What did you say on your turn?”

“I said I just sat around and played video games.”

All went smoothly until the very end when I told the ladies to go wash up in the restroom as they both were wearing a fair amount of breakfast. When they returned to the table, Tate was barefoot and Cat slapped a soaking wet pair of her sister’s flip-flops down on the table directly next to my unfinished sandwich.

“Tate, why are you not wearing shoes?” I asked. “You know you are not allowed to go barefoot in a restaurant. What on earth are you thinking? Don’t you know that isn’t sanitary?” As I peppered her with questions, I grabbed the shoes.

“Well Mom, my shoes were in the toilet and I thought it would be LESS sanitary to put them back on” she replied staring at my hands that were holding the shoes in question.

“Ummmm….what?”

“My shoes fell into the the toilet, I knew you would think that was unsanitary, so I didn’t put them back on. I brought them to you instead.”

“Yes, and put them next to my breakfast. I see that now. WHY???? Why did you do that?”

“We knew you would want to wash them mommy. You know, to get the icky germs off before I put my shoes back on. But you can finish your sandwich first.”

Well, I just heard back from her. Apparently, I am allowed to come in and read a book to Aidan’s class. Which is pretty much Aidan’s personal nightmare. And mine.

I understand that the days of mom coming in with a tray of frosted cupcakes, covered in aluminum foil, are over. But at least when Mack was in kindergarten, we were allowed to bring in “healthy treats” like fruit for a birthday celebration. Peanut allergies, the childhood obesity epidemic, and test pressure have conspired to take even that away. Even from kindergarteners.

I have total sympathy for parents dealing with food allergies. But this loss pains me to my very soul. I really haven’t found anything, in the last 30 years, that brought me as much pure happiness as having my class sing Happy Birthday to me, each of us with a napkin and cupcake on our desk, as my mom stood by and smiled. It was good. It was really good.

So Aidan won’t get to know that feeling. Too bad. I do plan to go in on Friday and eat lunch with him in the school cafeteria. I’ll bring him a special treat, something big and gooey and covered in chocolate. And when his classmates clamor for a bite, I’ll tell them, “Sorry, your teacher says you can’t have any.”

As I skimmed it, I thought, “Why is the Richmond chapter sending things to me? That’s two hours away.”

Then I saw this, noted below the list of appetizers:

Mashed Potato Bar
(Mashed potatoes served into martini glasses for a walk-around treat…choose from a variety of toppings. Delish!)

Oh, well then that makes sense. My reputation obviously has spread throughout the Old Dominion.

So I’ll be heading to Richmond on Saturday…

Was anyone else aware of this proof of God’s hand on Earth?

If only they came in a deep-fried version….

I’m sure most kids said “Mommy and Daddy” or “My sister” or “God.”

Mack’s paper said, “I am thankful for cookies with goop.” That’s what he calls Oreos.

I was so moved.

At lunch I diced some of them and gave them to eight-month-old Aidan.

He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth. Immediately, his eyes shot to me with an expression that perfectly conveyed two thoughts:

“My God, but I do love you, woman.”

and

“Exactly what else have you been keeping from me?”