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.