I’ve got a second in between laundry, sweeping the floor, a shower, and staring sadly at the inside of my refrigerator to write this.  I’ve got the time because the kids are napping.  And when I say napping, I mean their eyes were completely closed while watching Elmo for the ten minutes I put it on so I could get the laundry together, and right after I carried their limp bodies upstairs and into their cribs, they suddenly became raving lunatics and are still up there jumping up and down and screaming something about “car Mama” and juice.

I’m staring sadly at my fridge because although I spent a half hour last weekend rearranging the whole thing to my liking, we had to empty a bunch out of it to move it in order to get my tile.  We hastily put the food back, thinking the fridge was going back in the kitchen that night, but the tile wasn’t quite ready for it, so here we are two days later and I still can’t find anything.  My magnetized spices are not in alphabetical order any more either, so you can imagine what kind of catastrophic head game that is creating for me.

My friend and her almost three-year old son came over today to keep me company, and it did take help me take my mind off my inability to quickly find the grape jelly.  We took the kids outside and had a really nice time playing, she helped me pull some weeds,  we drank a whole bottle of Jagermeister together, haha, I’m kidding, just water, and then it happened.  I pulled out the box of glazed Dunkin’ Donuts Munchkins I had bought this morning and offered it to everyone.

My twins came running over as usual, Twin A stuffed twenty in his mouth, and Twin B carefully poked around the box to get juuuuuust the right one, no two, nope three donuts.  My friend took one, as did her son.  He took a little bite of that moist deliciousness, that melty goodness that was still warm because I forgot the box in my car, and he did the unthinkable.  HE PUT THE DONUT BACK IN THE BOX.

I’m not even kidding.  My serious face is on.  I looked at my friend and said: “He doesn’t like them?”  She looked in the box and saw the donut with the one little bite taken out and was embarrassed.  She said: “Oh, wow, sorry about that!” She grabbed the donut and ate it, and turned as if there was nothing wrong.  I don’t understand.  What can I do?  I don’t want to say anything and lose her friendship, but this is serious!

I turned to her and said: “I think something’s wrong with your child.”

She looked at me and laughed and asked why. “Hello!” I exclaimed.”He doesn’t like glazed donuts.  From DUNKIN’ DONUTS! That’s not normal.  Come on,  we’re going in the house, I’m giving him a chocolate chip cookie. If he turns that down, we’re going to the Emergency Room.”

She just laughed and said: “Oh, Carrie.”  Then carried on as if everything were fine.  Poor dear.

Thinking on it now a few hours later, I’m wondering how that phone call would be:

“Good morning, Dr. Eclair’s office, how can we help you?”

“I would like to make an appointment for my son, I’m really worried about him.”

“What’s the problem?” says Dr. Eclair’s nurse.

“My son doesn’t like glazed donuts.”

…silence…

“Oh honey, this is bad, you need to bring him in.  You have insurance, right? Please, come right in, we’ll call for a police escort.  We’ll clear the doctor’s schedule for the next two months. You might want to pack a bag.”

I told you…

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