A couple of my friends here are going to talk to the day care director tomorrow about the choice of snacks served to the kids.
"Do you want to join us?" one inquired.
Ummm... no ... I mean, given that I'm just as much of an offender — Goldfish? Check; Fruit Snacks? Check; Cereal bars? Check; Popsicles? Check; Chocolate pudding? Check — wouldn't it be just a tad hypocritical to complain about the day care's Super Donuts and sugar cookes?
Probably.
So I won't be there.
Oh yeah, am also guilty of harboring fruit juice in the fridge. The kind with — eek! gasp! horror! — straws.
But hey, I don't let them have sodas. I do have one redeeming maternal quality.
I had all sorts of good intentions when I was pregnant with Tootie. I was going to make her baby food, serve only organic fruits and veggies and deprive her of even a granule of sugar.
Now, with a full-time job, a husband who's often out of town, an independent-minded preschooler and a toddler who climbs anything the slightest bit vertical — well, I think of those early vows and I laugh myself into a stupor.
Or maybe that's due to the cookie I filched from Tootie's classroom.
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