Fast food

"I want Daddy make our car go fast!" says John, age 2.5 years.

"He is making it go fast, John. He's going 40 miles per hour," Mom replies.

John gives a very doubtful look, as if to say that 40 mph is not the kind of speed he had in mind. Mom decides to try to give him some perspective.

"Well, John, could you run this fast?"

"Yes."

There was no hesitation while he thought about it. No uncertainty. Just an unequivocal, confident "yes." He may not know how fast 40 mph is, but he has no doubt that he can run that fast. And to be honest, there are times when I am not so sure but that he is right. Like yesterday, at the grocery store.

I had stopped off at our nearby D&W for a gallon of milk. Unfortunately, it was 2:30, the kids were hungry, and I was in tired, desperate appeasement mode. So, we ended up with $26 worth of food, instead. D&W knows what it is doing by putting the milk in the back corner of the store. We bought clementines, bananas, pistachios, sunflower seeds, corn on the cob (really, in December!), yogurt. Even with this haul, the kids were disappointed because I turned down requests for fresh raspberries ("Too expensive." "Aww, you always say that." "Well, it is always true.), apple cider, and a vat of christmas-tree-shaped, chocolate-covered pretzels.

As we passed the bakery area, the kids started clamoring for the "free kids' cookies" - a basket of extras that are kept behind the counter. Unfortunately, the area was unstaffed and the basket was not in sight. So, I broke down and let them all choose a doughnut. John, of course, chose chocolate.

I have heard the strident claims of those who say that children's behavior is not affected by what they eat. I don't buy this for a minute. Within 60 seconds of John inhaling his treat, he was on "full speed ahead." I was headed for the checkout. John leaped from the cart and took off. I followed at a quick trot as he rounded the corner down the bread aisle at the far end of the store.

By the time I got to the meat department at the back of the store, I could no longer keep up with him as he dashed around shoppers. I abandoned the cart (and James and Maggie, too, to be honest) and took off at a full run through dairy and bakery. He dashed behind the one register at the side entrance into the attached shopping mall. (We've now run a 3/4 circuit of the store at full-tilt.) As the clerk and patrons waiting to pay gasped in surprised, he squeezed past a stack of baskets and was out the door. As I flew past in hot pursuit (also rudely slipping behind the clerk and leaping over the baskets), I heard chuckles and comments, "Wow, he's fast." Yeah, thanks for that helpful observation. I rounded the corner down the hall and finally scooped him up before he made it to the exterior door.

Did he express surprise to be stopped? Chagrin? Anger? No, he just laughed with glee and delight. "Mommy, I run fast!"