First of all, I’d like to say that that I hope you have had a good day. I know it can’t be easy dealing with a mixed clientele ranging from the Preppy Handbook to the Farmer’s Almanac. And, for the most part, you do it pleasantly (except when I ask you to toast my bagel, which you clearly HATE to do). Sorry.
But here’s the skinny (pun intended) on something I need to clarify with you.
When I come in every Monday and Wednesday morning with two year old slung on hip, dirty hair in clip and ask for an iced coffee and TWO glazed munchkins…I actually really only want two of the glazed munchkins. Not four, not five (I know, I know .99 cents!) but two. You can even CHARGE me for five but please stop giving me more than two. You see, they’re for the kiddo. He’s jump-out-of-the-car seat PSYCHED bc his bossy, controlling big brother is at school and he’s not. Which means that he gets this special trip with Mom where he gets a treat (TWO, in fact) that he wouldn’t normally get if Big Brother (for whom a munchkin worth of sugar would result in household item breakage in no time flat) was with him.
Wait..where was I?
Oh, yes. So, dear Dunkin lady, when you put four or five or even three in the bag here’s my problem. I can’t give the mini man more than two munchkins. I mean, I’m all for indulging my kids now and then but I already know I’m not winning mother-of-the-year here with the munchkin trip anyway. And, lord knows I don’t want to eat them (ok, well maybe I WANT to but that would pretty much mean weight watchers would allow me to eat three small pea pods for dinner). So, when I get back to my car, mini man strapped in back squawking “munchKIN, munchKIN” from the back and I reach into the bag to hand them back to him, please oh please, let there really only be two. I hate being wasteful. Don’t force me to pop leftovers in my mouth. Don’t force me to throw them out (“there are people starving in Africa” and all — hmmm…are they actually still starving there?). Just give me two. Really. Two.