With a tired baby ahead of us in the stroller and a promise tethered behind us, we hobbled into Orange Leaf this afternoon for frozen yogurt. The idea was thrown out like the first pitch of a baseball game -- the rest of the outing hung on its fruition. We'd been to Carter's, and Nordstrom Rack, and now this, our final stop. The treat would be a soothing salve...
Except, Grant voiced atypical objection as we entered the cheery storefront. I thought he was just hot in his fleece-lined pumpkin seat. I can fix that once we sit down...
And, Reid demanded full attention; the kind he was used to getting just a few short months ago. The promise of a peaceful frozen yogurt stop slowly melted. Is this REALLY how it's going to go down?
Selections were made carefully at the pay-by-the-ounce yogurt dispensers. Wedding Cake for Reid and Oreo for me. I really can't wait to sit down and enjoy this....yummmmmmm.
But, once we made it to the toppings smorgasboard, little cries became wails, and a toddler became a self-sufficient little boy who helped himself to the pinnacle of add-ons: chocolate sprinkles, which incidentally stood tall in an obnoxiously large container next to the crushed waffle cones. I unhooked the straps of Grant's seat, rescuing him from its humid confines...all while Reid 'helped himself.'
In slow motion, the sprinkles rained down on the orange bowl...puddling his meager medallion of frozen yogurt. I watched, helpless, and handless. Oh my goodness, he's using the whole container. I can't put Grant down fast enough to stop this mess!!! The slow motion became fast-forward.
I'm surprised I didn't yell, because I really wanted to; inside, my words were like the soundtrack to a train wreck. Finagling Grant in an unnatural position, I wrangled the sprinkle container from where it rested inside Reid's bowl and let it tumble sideways onto the sparkling countertop.
This bowl. THIS BOWL. I stared at its contents in disbelief. There is NO way Reid will eat all this -- even if he could, I wouldn't let him. Really? Really.
AND IT'S PAY BY THE OUNCE!!! Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
In the periphery sat a welcoming trash can. Would anybody notice if I dumped the excess sprinkles in there? Then, Reid wouldn't even get the chance to eat them all...and there would be no forthcoming fit when I have to take them away unfinished.
BUT IT IS PAY BY THE OUNCE, AND REID TOOK ALL THESE. SO, THE RIGHT THING TO DO IS PAY FOR THEM. Even though I really, really don't want to...
The cries ensued, despite my rhythmic bounces, and a dancing toddler encircled me as the two bowls were placed onto the scale for tallying. "$4.73, please." Grudgingly, I handed over my credit card and smiled politely at the close of the transaction. My eyes still focused on his ostentatious topping display.
With no delay, Reid's inverted bowl hung high above the trashcan...sprinkles falling like a spring shower. A nice coating remained for his enjoyment.
Big, stubborn eyes witnessed my discontent. "I don't want it now, Mommy." I'm sure you don't; this is how our whole day has gone.
"OK, I'll throw it away then." He will not take me up on this. 3, 2, 1...
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. I'll eat it."
And eat it he did. Right down to the very last sprinkle swimming in the melted yogurt, right beside his tired mom, who, despite rocking and cooing one little guy, figured out a way to consume her frozen treat with warp speed.
Jackets on and pumpkin seat occupied, we hobbled back out toward the car.
One red-faced crying baby.
One toddler covered with curious melted splotches of white on his navy fleece pants.
One mommy who imagined herself warm on a sunny beach, underneath a palm tree, atop a soft terry cloth towel, and beside a riveting book.
And that's where I spent the entire drive home...
Write on,
b
