Food for Thought

One of the disadvantages of my children’s participation in choir—and the only one, really—is that they miss out on the gas station treats that I buy for Angela while we’re waiting.

Mind, you shouldn’t feel too badly for Joe, Jem, Cate and Felicity. They receive their sugary reward at the end of practice, as is the custom of the choir director, though they are always curious and—dare I say it?—a bit put off to see what all Angela consumed in their absence.

Yesterday it was a bag of butter-flavored pretzel sticks that kept her happy. Believe it or not, though, my almost 4-year-old is also learning to share (I know!) and so she opted to save most of the bag for the rest of her siblings.

Not so the mama.

I consumed my purchase in its entirety.

As we were driving home and the kids were munching contentedly on their Old Dutch Butter Spindles, I couldn’t resist a bit of ribbing. Dorito Guilt has that effect on me.

“Do you know what Mama had for her treat?” I queried.

“What?” Felicity, ever one to promote justice and any breach thereof, was all ears.

“I had a bag of spicy-sweet chili Doritos,” I crowed. (I know, I’m horrible. It gets even worse, though.)

“And I ate them all up!”

Did you know that if you joke about your overindulgence, you burn off the calories justlikethat?

“Mommy,” Felicity chided. “That’s not good for the baby.”

“Yes,” I replied, “But it’s good for me.”

Felicity grinned and seemed not at all offended. “Oh, I get it!” she said, and knowingly rubbed her tummy. There’s my girl! I thought with a smile. I mean, really. She all but winked at me.

And then who should join the conversation at last but Angela. “Yeah, but the baby’s down there like a little bird,” here she tossed back her head and opened her mouth up wide, “And he’s catching all the crumbs!”

All for the Glory, in times of feast and famine,