The donut

I've heard it many times before ... "You have to do what you say you will, otherwise your kids won't take you seriously and won't ever listen!". Today was THE day! London wasn't listening and I said "no dessert". This on its own would not be such a huge punishment, if there wasn't for Lola, who loves dessert and is London's twin sister, plus she loves to rub in the fact that she WILL get dessert.

So, we are on our way home when we stop at a local food store. I browse through the counter when my eyes reluctantly stop on the display of baked donuts. I don't buy donuts, rarely do I eat them, but this little round fat blob with a thick chocolate cover was calling my name clear and loud. I wrestled it into a bag and we took it home.

London: "Mommy, is this for dessert?"
Me: "Yes!"
Lola: "But London you are not getting any! Mommy, you will share it with me, right?"
Me: "Right" ... I nodded with huge guilt engulfing my heart ...

Dinner was served. London sat down behind the table and without a single word it was all gone.
It was delicious! (A natural born charmer, who can certainly pull out a few tricks from his sleeve, what can I say?)

London: "Mommy, I am done!"
Me: "Good job, London!"
London: " Is there dessert?"
Me: "Yes, the donut"
London: "Can I have some?"
Me: (painfully while reciting the "stick to your guns" mantra) No, you get no dessert today!
Lola: "Do I get some?" (rub, rub)
Me: "Yes, you will!"

London cries as I am cutting the donut in quarters. He sobs, while I hand over the little piece covered in chocolate to Lola. It's not the hysterical, upset cry. It's the kind that breaks your heart ... like he had lost his favorite toy or when some kid tells him he can not run fast enough. It's the cry that makes me want to hike up to the sky and get him a bright shining star ... "Mommy it looks so delicious" ... he can barely pronounce while crocodile tears stream down his face ...

I am heartbroken.

"stick to your guns"
"stick to your guns"
"stick to your guns"

I want to cry with him .. or ... give him a donut! Not a little piece, a HUGE one ... with chocolate and sprinkles; not one, two! Or three .. or a dozen ... baked or deep fried, who cares?

Then something happens that catches me completely by surprise!

Lola turns to him and hands over her donut while licking her little fingers ...
"Here it is London, don't cry!"

I am overtaken by emotions .. (What can a donut do to you, huh?) I bet no parenting book counts with this outcome.

London's eyes are shining big and brown with tear drops drying up at corners, his little face beaming, the single dimple stretched to bigger than I've ever seen.

Thank you Lola!
I am relieved.