Sharing with Pop Pop

I will start by admitting that my father and I have large sweet tooths. In fact, they are large enough to possibly qualify as sweet bones. I’d always thought it was a learned trait and I could possibly prevent my kids getting the same. That is where this story begins.

We were taking a trip to see my father. It was after my divorce and a 10-hour drive with a three-year-old and two-year-old by yourself is difficult, so my mother joined me for the drive. During the drive, we hit an unexpected snowstorm in the mountains and decided to stop for dinner. While we ate, the storm got worse, and we decided to spend the night.

At dinner, everyone got some dessert. I got a delicious apple crumb with ice cream; my son got a sundae, and my daughter got a piece of chocolate cake. Oh my, that piece of cake was huge. It hung off two sides of the plate and it had multiple layers with shiny chocolate icing between each layer and all around the outside. My daughter’s eyes lit up bright. I looked over at my mother with a knowing glance that we sat in front of a plate of either a night of upset stomach or worse or 12 hours of sugar high.

“I don’t think you need to eat all of that, sweetie. How about just a few bites so you don’t make yourself sick?”

“Can I take the rest with me, mommy?” she asked me.

“Since we’ll be in a hotel, we won’t really have a place for it. It would have to sit out and that could bring bugs into the room.”

She didn’t say anything to that, just dug into her cake and ate as much as I would let her. My mother and I packed up, which for two toddlers is no small feat. Mom packed them in the car while I paid for the bill. Looking back, I’m thinking I should have been more suspect that we got her out of the restaurant so peacefully without the leftover cake.

By the next morning, I’d completely forgotten about it. We were more focused on how long it will take to get there, what kind of traffic we might hit and when her ride should show up to pick her up…. typical trip stuff.

My daughter was sitting behind the passenger seat so I could look over and easily see her. As we drive, they watch a movie and I glance her way to look at the lane next to me and I thought I saw her put something in her mouth. I turned back forward, sure that I was imagining it. We had not given her anything to eat yet. I dismissed it so completely I didn’t even mention it.

A few hours later, I look back at her again trying to get an answer of where she wants to go to lunch. This time, I absolutely catch her putting something in her mouth.

“What are you eating?”

“Oh, I was just having a bite of cake?”

“What cake”

“From last night, I was taking some to Pop Pop.”

“Your chocolate cake that we didn’t get to-go?”

“Yeah, I wrapped it up in a napkin and brought it out with me.”

“Where did you put it? Where is it?”

“Oh, it’s right here in my cup holder. I’ve taken a few bites; I didn’t think he’d mind.”

I look over at my mother, utterly speechless. What do you say to that? Are there words out there for something like this? She wrapped up her cake to take to her grandfather and stuffed it into her cupholder in her car seat. Are there words?

Of course, my mother is hysterical and desperately trying to stay quiet.

“You know what sweetheart, let’s leave the rest for Pop Pop and we’ll stop for lunch, ok?”

“OK, mommy.”

All I can do is shake my head and smile. I was proud I held my laughter in! She does this at 2, what is she going to do at 12 or 22? I need to find strength. I’m getting my own chocolate cake when we get to dad’s house and burying myself in it, I think.