A mother's love

As if I needed any more proof that I love Piglet beyond all measure, today the depth of my love for him was tested once again.  

We were at the A.pple store (also known as Mecca) early this morning to get my i.Phone fixed (read: replaced).  I'd had wayyyy too much coffee and had the shakes, so on our way out, I stopped by the Golden Arches to grab me a little McMuffin love and side of hashbrowns.  I NEVER get a fast-food breakfast because really, who wants to drag a one year-old out the door at that time of day? No craving is worth that!  On this very gloomy, rainy day, this was JUST the pick-me-up I needed. The Golden Arches were my beacon in an otherwise very dark day.  I could not WAIT to eat my tasty indulgence when we got home. A little treat all for me. All MINE!  

Piglet, however, has developed and honed his ability to smell fried food.  And he LOVES it.  (I swear, he got every bad gene I possess).  He's never had a fast-food breakfast, but the hashbrowns smell suspiciously like french fries, a Piglet favorite.  He started demanding some of whatever was in my concealed bag from his plush throne (carseat).  And as you might recall, he demands things loudly and with great persistence. (Go here to see.)  

In the back of my mind I feared the worst.  I clutched my little red, yellow and white bag and hoped Piglet would relent.  He did not.  I cracked the windows in the car so the smell would dissipate and he would forget.  He did not.  I willed him to be lulled by the falling rain and fall asleep in the car.  He did not.  When we arrived home, I lifted him out of his throne and he immediately pointed at the bag containing my breakfast and signed "eat."  EEK!  Given his picky eating habits, I knew the sacrifice to be made.  I dejectedly broke up the hashbrown and breakfast sandwich and set them in front of Piglet.  He shoveled it all into his little craw and demanded "more."  A slow tear rolled down my cheek as he spit out what was in his mouth in favor of the new tasty morsel I doled out.  

A mother's love knows no bounds.  Or gets treats apparently.  You'll have to excuse me now while I go have cold cereal for the 300,067 time this year.