Just, and unjust, desserts

By Renee Phile

Kevin, my younger son, turns 9 this month, and to be honest, when I think of the first moments following his birth, the image that I most vividly recall was his wide, and I mean wide, open mouth and his head twisting from side to side. He was looking for food, that hefty 9-pound 4-ounce boy was, and he hasn’t stopped since.

Fast-forward a few years to when he was around 3 years old and going to a day care. It was Thanksgiving time, so the teachers threw the kids a party. Each child was given a cupcake slathered in brown icing with little eyes, a beak, and candy corn acting as turkey feathers. When I picked up Kevin that day, his teacher said she needed to have a word with me, that something needed to be discussed, that there was an issue. Oh no . . . I thought. What could he have done?

“Mrs. Phile,” she said, studying me above her glasses. “Kevin went into the bathroom quite suddenly and locked the door and was in there a long time. I was worried and waited a while, but then wanted to make sure he was OK. When I got him to open the door, I saw he had been eating two of the other children’s cupcakes, along with his own. His cheeks were full, and I could smell it on his breath.”

Oh my. Images of the cupcake-less children flashed through my mind as I offered a measly apology. “I am so sorry. We will deal with this,” I assured her.

On the way home I tried to get an explanation from him. “Why would you eat the other kids’ cupcakes, Kevin?”

“Kevin ate Jazmine and Miguel’s cupcakes in da bafrroom,” he proclaimed.

“Yes, but why would you do that?”

“Kevin was hungwy.”

Oh my. I didn’t know what was more troubling, that he pilfered cupcakes or referred to himself in the third person.

A few months later I woke up one morning and stumbled out to the kitchen to make coffee and noticed, sitting on the counter, the previous night’s brownies, no longer covered with the plastic wrap. At closer glance, I saw what looked like the markings of a wild animal pawing through them. Only mounds of brownie and scattered crumbs remained.

I saw brownie crumbs dotting the counter and trailing from the kitchen floor into the living room. I followed them . . . to the couch where I found a mound of something alive moving around under a blanket. I yanked the blanket to reveal the culprit. Kevin, cheeks full of brownie, eyes wide. Oh my.

Over the years the most common questions out of Kevin’s mouth are, “Can I have dessert? When is dessert time? Can I have two desserts?” This kid thinks he needs dessert after every meal, even breakfast, even if breakfast is chocolate chip pancakes. One evening I suggested the sweet potato counted as dessert. No deal.

The other day my friend Alison took Kevin out to Dairy Queen for a tasty treat. He ordered a mini funnel cake with a side of vanilla ice cream, topped with caramel, hot fudge and whipped cream. The young man taking the order looked a little confused. This particular item wasn’t even listed on the menu, but after a short conversation with another employee, the two decided that this magic could happen.

“Is this what you wanted, buddy?” the young man asked as he placed the treat in front of Kevin.

“Yes!” Kevin’s brown eyes danced.

So, it’s Kevin’s ninth birthday this month, and he has had his cake picked out since, well, February. He wants a vanilla and strawberry Minecraft cake with extra blue and green icing.

Any type icing is fine, Mom, I just need extra icing, that’s all.  PS

Renee Phile loves being a mom, even if it doesn’t show at certain moments.

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