Slippery Slope

Today I did it. I gave the boys sugar.

Technically, August and Finley have had sugar before. Brown sugar in oatmeal. Homemade carrot muffins with sugar. Very ripe fruit.

But today was full on frosting and cake pulsing through your veins sugar.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn’t even intend to get a cupcake as we sang happy birthday to our 2-year-old twin neighbors. But then Finley was pushing against me like a starving wild animal eyeing fresh meat. He was yelling “mine, mine, cake, cake” as other moms and kids reached for the homemade vanilla concoctions. Matt looked at me slightly horrified from across the table. We hadn’t talked about this. There was no time for discussions. “Should we give ‘em a little bite of cake?” “Sure, it’s a party.”

It was Finley who made the decision as he reached his tiny body, all muscle and will, toward the white fluffy frosting. Once the cupcake was in my hand, Fin literally thrust his face into it with all his might, mouth wide open. He’d inhaled a quarter of the cupcake by the time I reached Matt and August on the other side of the backyard.

Quick and dirty, I broke off a piece for August who was also writhing in Matt’s arms like he was a caged beast. They each had a bite more and then I shoved a piece in Matt’s mouth and in my own so I could tell the boys, “All gone! All gone!”

The aftermath of the cupcake was not pretty, but it was funny. August and Finley acted downright drunk. They laughed too loud, ran around in circles, jumped up and down, took their shirts off at home and got more affectionate. It was like babies telling each other, “I love you, man!” 

After an hour, their eyes drooped and they crashed hard into their cribs. And so did Matt and I.