Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Crisis of Conscience

John caught me off guard the other day as I was preparing his lunch. I asked him if he wanted a blueberry yogurt-to-go or a strawberry yogurt-to-go, and he said neither.

I stopped in the middle of the hectic before-school lose-your-head freakout session to stare at him. "What's that?" I said. A change in school lunch routine is cause for notice. "No yogurt?"

"Nah," he said, nonchalantly. Perhaps...too nonchalantly.

"OK," I said. "I'll put some Wheat Thins in there instead."

I turned around and got back into the constantly-five-minutes-late groove. I was then hit from behind, unaware, unwarned, and unprepared. And I heard those words.

"Mom, please don't be mad," John said, from the small of my back.

Turns out he'd eaten SEVEN of the go-gurt-like products at once the day before, leaving only one for lunch. He wanted to tell me rather than have me find out for myself and try to finesse it, which is what I would have done. He is so much like his dad. If it's like this all the time, the teen years should be a breeze.


  1. That there's some major calcium, ma'am.
    I just want to hug on that boy. Think he'd let me?

  2. I'm sure he'd let you hug him. The big question, though, is: Would the macropopulation of Streptoccus thermophilus, Lactobacillus bulgaricus, and lactobacillus caseis will let you hug him? His bowels have got to be on overdrive.

  3. Oh, and I'm sure my in-laws are giggling at the idea of putting "just like his dad," "teen years" and "breeze" in the same sentence.