who needs nutrition
my foundations are built with
bribery and fat
Today was "Muffins with Mom" at the wee one’s school. I admit to trying to dodge this particular event. See, they lure you in with free muffins and then they send your kids to class and hold you hostage while a dietitian lectures on how it’s bad to have fat kids and what the bureaucratic nightmare of a school system is trying to do to combat the Round Plague.
And that’s all fine and good.
I don’t really want to be lectured, though. Especially at 8 am on a Tuesday. So, admittedly, I made us run late today. We got to school about ten minutes after we usually do, thus allowing the wee one to skip sitting in the cafeteria goofing off with his classmates while waiting for his teacher to fetch them. Instead, we went straight to the classroom, hoping to avoid any muffins or dietitians.
Well, my plan backfired.
Right when we got the classroom, the teacher was walking out with her little girl. "Have you guys had a muffin?" she asked cheerily.
"Oh, no," I answered, flustered (as always). "We’re running late."
"Well, you two go grab one. The wee one can be a little late to class today." And with a grin she shooed us off to the cafeteria.
So there we were, standing in a line two miles long, waiting for muffins. Then, lo – who shows up in line behind us? The wee one’s teacher! We make polite chitchat until I realize the line isn’t moving and I need to get home. The wee-er one is at home with her daddy and her daddy is undoubtedly sweating because he needs to get to work and I am late returning from the school drop off.
This is when my Mother of the Year instincts kick in.
"Hey, wee one," I whisper conspiratorially. "I have to leave to save daddy. What if I make muffins for you and they’re ready when you get home from school?" I give him a hopeful, pleading look.
He looks at me skeptically. "But I want these muffins."
"I know you do, but I have to go. The line isn’t moving and daddy is going to be really mad if I’m late and make him late."
The wee one, ever the trooper, heaves a long sigh. "But I wanted these muffins." His use of the past tense makes me hopeful.
"I know," I say, feeling terrible. "What if we swing by Sonic on the way home from school this afternoon for a special treat?"
"Sonic AND homemade muffins?" he asks, eyes aglow.
"Well, we’ll see," I say, and we both know this means "yes."
I stand up (I’ve been squatting next to the wee one this whole time) and I notice his teacher smiling at us.
"He can stay here with me," she says, and I agree to leave him standing in line with her. And then I realize she has overheard me bribing my son with crap fast food and homemade crap food. Bribing him with food at the "don’t let your kid get fat" elementary school hoedown. Awesome.
And so I leave. The wee one is happily chattering with his teacher and her daughter, waiting in line for his muffin – that he will now get along with the bribed food, thus doubling his caloric intake for the day.
Thanks, Muffins for Mom. If my kid gets fat, I blame you. (But not the teacher because she’s really nice and sort of helped me assuage my guilt for having to abandon the wee one in line. I can’t believe I did that. Do I suck or what?)
Boo long lines. Boo poor public parenting. Yay sympathetic teachers who are stuck in line no matter what and just make the best of it.