Sugar Stick

Eddie has bolted to the back door and is begging me to let him out. Peanut is nowhere to be seen. Nancy and David are sequestered in the playroom pretending not hear. I am in the kitchen – the front lines – bracing for the next salvo.

She smiles, cocks her head to the side, twists at the hips, and spins on one foot. She falls to the tile floor midway through the clumsy pirouette, laughing uproariously. She clambers to her feet, grabs a balloon in each hand and leaps into a toddler cheerleading routine. “Hooray!” she shouts, one fist in the air. I duck as the plastic weight on the end of the balloon string in her raised hand hurtles toward my face.

“Sugar Stick” is on the loose.

We found ourselves at the mall too late to get home in time to make a proper dinner and decided to find a kid friendly place to eat, settling on the T.G.I. Friday’s in the mall. Sure enough, they were ready with paper placemats, crayons, and booster seats, all in a room clearly designated for the dreaded “families with kids.” The kids’ menu was right there on the placemats and we ordered Dave the Chicken Fingers with Fries, and Trin got the Mac and Cheese with Fries (it was either that or carrots, and we knew where the carrots would end up). They also got slushies to drink.

Just after the slushies arrived, Dave started to melt down about a Thomas toy he’d seen in the music store, and Nancy decided to take him for a walk. They were gone for a while and Trin pounded her slushie like it was her job. The nice waitress brought her a refill and she started in on that one, too. Nancy arrived back with David just before the food arrived. Dave decided he didn’t like his slushie. Nancy took a sip and said, “Wow. That’s sugary!” I took the lid off Trin’s and looked inside. My heart sank. It turns out what I assumed was actually a “Raspberry Lemonade” over crushed ice was actually a cup of ice with “Raspberry Lemonade” FLAVORED SYRUP (aka pretty much straight sugar) poured on top. She’d had two of these toddler 8-balls and would have had a third had Nancy not taken that fateful sip.

She’s asleep now. Her alter ego, “Sugar Stick” crashed sometime after slapping me across the neck with bubbles from her bath, all wild-eyed and wiggly.

I wonder if she’ll remember any of this tomorrow.