Ben’s 7-Minute Confession

Friday is “Mail Day” in the A-Town Elementary Pre-K program. Normally, if I’m home when Ben’s bus arrives (or later, after work, if I’m not), we go through Ben’s backpack and he shows me all the crafts and worksheets he’s completed throughout the week. They’re cute. He’s cute. I find it difficult to part with any of his handiwork, but I do eventually recycle all but the most significant masterpieces.

Yesterday I was denied access to Ben’s backpack. “Mommy, no peeking! There are special treats in there for Mother’s Day.”

“OK,” I said, resuming my ennnnndless work on the computer. (No, I’m not done yet. But I will be—soon and very soon. And, “Thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?”—TPB)

Ben dashed upstairs with his bag, ostensibly in search of a super-secret hiding spot for my precious gifts, to be ceremoniously presented on Sunday. While I continued writing, I envisioned the before-church scenario two days hence: Vi bringing me breakfast in bed, consisting of lukewarm herbal tea, toast with a smidgen of strawberry jam, and a few just-washed (still-wet) green grapes rolling around on the plate; Ben and Pearl getting into the action, hopping onto the bed, spilling the tea, smearing the jam, squashing the grapes, permanently staining the blankets... My boisterous, beloved children—all bearing gifts.

Seven minutes went by. Ben came back downstairs and approached the desk (ratta-tatta-tap-tap-tap). I stopped typing momentarily when I felt him at my elbow:

“Mommy,” he confessed, matter-of-factly, “I just ate your Mother’s Day treats upstairs.”

LOL! I wonder if this means Ben would flunk the famous EQ test given to preschoolers—those kids’ goodies are withheld for 20 whole minutes. Then again, the EQ kids are promised their own treats—more if they wait than if they don't. Oh, well. In this case, I think “less is more.” Who needs all that sugar? (I’m assuming it was something sweet. Since Ben refused to divulge that part of the confession, I guess I’ll never know.)