Despicable Me

I’ve got nothing original to say tonight. Barry went with a friend to the Twins game (a 15-3 beat down by the Rays), and I’ve been dealing with prepping one kid for a Social Studies test, a kid who poured a cup of sand in his hair, two other kids who dragged a toy ride-on car and a bike over the hill in our backyard and halfway to the park, and a dog who keeps stealing things (silk flowers, a paper Easter basket, stuffing from a pillow, the plastic bag that used to contain ham that she took from the garbage, a back scratcher) and taking them to her secret lair under the kitchen table.

So here’s something from an e-mail I sent my sister on June 25, 2008. Cameron would have been five. At that period in his life, any time an act of injustice was inflicted on him by me, he picked up the phone and called Aunt Kim or anyone else who would listen. I was giving out a heads up.

Date: Wed, 25 June, 2008 10:51
Subject: cinnamon roll
To: kimwind, windwood59bs, chadwindholz
If you get a call from Cameron saying I ruined his evening, this is why. Yesterday David had a baseball game at 6:00 and we didn’t get home until after 8, then Alex woke up and I had to get him back to bed. 9:30 rolled around and I really hadn’t eaten anything for dinner. I was reading in my room and went into the kitchen, partly to turn lights off, partly to scrounge around for something to eat. I was going for the caramel rice cakes when I saw an uneaten cinnamon roll on the table.
Cameron was downstairs and I figured he’d gone to bed or was watching baseball with Barry and had just taken a bite and then was uninterested and left it there, as he is prone to do. So I popped it in the ‘wave for a few seconds and ate it. 
A few minutes later, here comes Cameron. As soon as he walked into the dining room I had a bad feeling. He headed straight for the table and said, “Where’s my cinnamon roll?”
“Oh, Cameron,” I said, “I’m so sorry, I thought you were done with it and I ate it.”

I made that sweet little face cry big fat tears. Oh the humanity.

Oh my God. Talk about feeling an inch tall. His eyes just welled up with tears and he burst out crying and said, “WHY did you eat my CINNAMON ROLL?!!??????” He just couldn’t comprehend that anyone would do something so hurtful. I apologized profusely and told him I thought he’d gone to bed and he said, while crying, “I just went downstairs to get my blanket!!!”
Of course there were none left because Barry had eaten the last one. I offered him a popsicle but nothing could make up for it. He just cried and cried. I hugged him and apologized and apologized and promised him his own cinnamon rolls tomorrow. Poor kid can’t even go downstairs for his blanket without mean ol’ mom swooping in on his snack.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011

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