I am a big fan of the donut. I don't indulge very often, so they always seem like a treat.
If you ask HPR, he'll tell you that I indulged in them rather frequently during my pregnancy with Shmoo. He likes to joke that all we could see at the 20-week ultrasound was a donut topped with ice cream. Astute readers know that the almighty donut/coffee combo was allegedly what got labor going that morning in November 2004.
So it seems only natural that my son would take after me:
HPR brought a half-dozen donuts home a few weeks ago. For breakfast, I let Shmoo choose. I was going to cut it in half for him, but I figured he'd eat some, then abandon it as he does with most meals. About this, I couldn't have been more wrong.
Shmoo ate about 2/3 of it sitting at the table. He seemed to be slowing down, so I asked if he was finished. He said "I wanna go play . . . with the donut." I helped him down from his booster chair. He headed toward the living room and I followed with his plate. I said "how about putting the donut back on the plate while you play?" "OK," he responded, and did so.
After about 20 seconds, he said "I'm all done playing" and came back for the donut. I got him dressed in between his bites; he cautiously put the donut down while I helped his arms into shirt sleeves.
I went to the kitchen to grab Shmoo's lunchbox and packed it in HPR's bag for their trolley commute. Shmoo was still working away at the donut. His bites got slower and slower, but no way was he going to relinquish that donut. When he had about 1/5 left, I told him he could wait and finish it on the trolley if he wanted.
It was almost painful to watch. I could tell he was full, but he just couldn't give it up. By the time HPR came downstairs, Shmoo had finished the donut and looked like a dog who had wolfed down an entire holiday cheese log.
Since it was a daycare day, we don't know what repercussions the donut may have had, but as for Shmoo, he was ready to get back in the saddle again: He asked for donuts for breakfast the next morning.