My son Benjamin likes to eat Pop-Tarts in the morning. While I’m sure he likes them for the sugar, I like them because they’re quick, easy, and when we are running late most mornings, they travel well. Sadly, there are some mornings when he doesn’t get to finish his Pop-Tart before we make it to preschool, and I have to take it from him.
“Why not let him take it in” you ask? Because if the other little ones in that kiddie penitentiary catch my son with the good stuff, he’s liable to get shanked with a floor-sharpened Crayola, that’s why.
Yes, daycares and preschools are rough places now, just ask someone on the inside.
After I drop Benjamin off and tell him, “No tattoos.” I drive to work with anywhere from a half eaten to three quarters eaten Pop-Tart in my passengers seat.
I used to just eat it, but lately I’ve been trying to cut carbs, so I can no longer enjoy the Brown Sugar and Toddler Spit goodness anymore. But not to be wasteful, I instead break it up into small pieces and throw it on the ground during my walk from the car to the front door of my work.
It’s a great way to start your day, pretending to be Hansel. Oh that lucky, lucky Hansel! He got put into a giant cage, and ordered to eat cake and candy and cookies twelve times a day.
Can you tell I miss my carbs?
So while I’m at work, lifting refrigerators, ranges, washers, dryers and big screen TV’s, to 3rd floor apartment buildings all day, I imagine the birds are swooping down and eating the pieces of Pop-Tarts, much like the old children’s story. Only when they swoop down to grab what they think is just another piece of bread, or some stale biscuit or hamburger bun, they get a fruit filled or sugary surprise.
“Holy shit, this cracker’s got strawberry in it! It’s gonna be a good day, boys!”
And the thought of that makes me smile. And it makes me a bit jealous that they get to eat carbs. And a little less mad when I can’t find my way back to the car at the end of the day.