Posted September 2, 2011 by jimhigley
Every so often, my teenage son makes me think that I’m a total failure in a few areas of this parenting gig.
The other night was one of those moments.
We were driving home from school. With no specific plans for the night, I was asking him about dinner and what sounded good to him. He couldn’t come up with anything. But it did cause him to think about his breakfast the following morning.
“Can we get Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast, tomorrow, Pops?” he asked me.
I instantly thought about the first time I experienced Krispy Kreme donuts. It was in Wilmington, North Carolina. I must have been in my early twenties visiting my friends Chris and Lib. These were the real deal Krispey Kremes. Fresh from the oven. Dripping with the memory of a neon sign in the window announcing when a fresh batch of glazed donuts just came out of the oven.
His request took me to a happy place.
“Absolutely!” I told him. “Let’s stop and pick up a box.”
And within minutes I was in the parking lot of our friendly neighborhood grocery store.
“If you want to stay here,” I said to him, “I’m happy to run in myself.”
“Actually,” he started to reply. “I’ll come in too. We need different food. I’m bored with what you’ve been buying.”
My happy place just got happier. First the image of donuts. Then the image of a son – a pickie-eater son – offering to come in and help his dear ole dad pick out some food. We were making progress. This was a good night. My boy was growing up. It almost felt like we were walking into a rite of passage.
I had images of fresh fruit. Vegetables. Whole grain products. Heck, I was even fine with some of the offerings in the frozen food section. Anything would be better than the limited assortment of food that seems to grace his culinary interests.
“How about this?” I’d say.
“This looks good.”
I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Even finding a box of Krispy Kremes didn’t make me feel better.
And the worst part? I honestly let him pick out the food. I hung my head in shame as we checked out for fear of being judged by Wendy, the cashier.
In the meanwhile, the donuts were great. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from tree. Not that either of us would know what an apple is.