That’s what the kind lady said to me as she walked around the bakery counter and recognized my son sitting in the stroller. She handed him a mini vanilla (or banilla as my son says) cupcake and smiled as he devoured the icing. Luckily he has been less of a regular these days since he is no longer going to the daycare next door. She laughed and said,”he always goes for the icing first. “He ONLY eats the icing”, I thought to myself. She got out of her crouch next to the stroller and mussed his hair, “what a cutie and so well mannered!” (huh?!) And she went back to her other customers.
Half way down he block my son sticks out his now empty crumb encrusted hand and says,”Daaaady?! I want another one!” And stood up in the stroller, harness and all – to punctuate his quasi-interjection.
“You just had one. Sit down and put your feet up. It’s 115 degrees and Daddy is melting faster than the Wicked Witch.”
“I neeeeeed it!”
“No, you really don’t. Let’s go.”
“I love you!”
“Nice try. Feet up let’s go.”
The stand off finally ended and I made it home dripping with sweat as my son bounced up and down in the stroller in the grip of a full fledged sugar high. I could just imagine if the bakery had installed a few stools they would greet my son as he walked in with a “Norm!” and he’d slide onto “his” stool and wait for the nice lady behind the counter to slide him a cupcake.