All Thanks to Their Cute Dad

Last Tuesday evening our telephone rang with a request from one of the young men in our ward. He had a job interview at nine o' clock Wednesday morning and was wondering if Nate could give him a ride. Nate's work schedule did not permit such taxiing, but mine did. When I agreed to the drop-off, it had not occurred to me that the young man would also need a ride home. Suddenly the request seemed a bit of an inconvenience. A handful of lemons, if you will (mostly due to the complication that two small children add to the stay-and-wait part of the equation).
Tuesday night, through a cluttered mouthful of fists and floss, Nate said, "Hey, I've got an idea for you and the kids during the interview."
"What?" I asked, fearing an answer that would necessitate a trip to KwikKar or Jiffy Lube.
"There's a Krispy Kreme right down the road. You could take the kids to get a donut. And Henry could watch the assembly line. I think he'd really like that."

And just like that: lemonade!

(I hope it doesn't take my children too many years to realize that they have a darling father, and that their mother is hopelessly tangled up in a mess of love for him).

To say Henry "liked" our outing is probably a gross understatement. He loved everything about it - the free hat and balloon, his heart-shaped donut with pink and red sprinkles (and his bite of mine (original glazed)), the cup of water (with a straw!), the bubbly lake of frying grease and the frosting fountain on the assembly line. One of my favorite things about Henry, besides his four front teeth and the way he forgives me for being awful, is the enormous wonder and joy he expresses over small pleasures -- like a sprinkle donut.