Yesterday I thumbed through the school newsletter that came to me along with a jumble of kid enticing ads for community events and programs. As I skimmed the calendar of events I noticed, yes, tomorrow, is donuts with dad, the paper indicating this was a change to the regular set date. So as all good wives I dialed Aaron's cell and realized that if we had any emergency that should pull him out of a patient's room this was it.
"Aaron, it's tomorrow." I said.
"What?" he said.
"Donuts with dad. Can you go?" I said, thinking can you bend over backwards and make your self the target of eye rolls and impatient patients for your nine year old son and a sub par donut.
A side note: Other than alliteration how do dads get to consume donuts and moms are paired with muffins? Now if they were of the poppy seed or cream cheese variety we could talk. In this one instance dad's get the better end of the deal.
So I left Aaron to solve that puzzle and went to solve how to get red punch out of the carpet. Both consuming tasks.
So did he go? Well, yes but they had their own private breakfast dining on donuts and hot chocolate from our corner donut store. Doesn't everyone have one? We do. OF course that was after he got a ticket for a rolling stop and he debated and stressed over the psychological effects missing one Donuts with Dad would have on Harris.
I don't know what they talked about. I only know that I married a man that caters to his children's need for donuts and who's number one son is a good reason to endure traffic tickets, eye rolls, and grumpy patients.