As long suffering readers will doubtless acknowledge, I am all about making brownies with young children. Making brownies is all about math: if three teaspoons is one table spoon, how many teaspoons is two table spoons? Making brownies is all about chemistry: mixtures, combinations, reactions, and-more rarely-explosions. Making brownies is also all about hanging out with the kids, making a mess and making memories, working toward a common, yummy goal.
Making brownies is also about brownies: They’re done; They’re hot. Let’s eat! (The brownies can cool later; let’s eat them now!)
So imagine my disappointment, having promised the kids that we were going to make brownies, only to discover that we were out of one of the key ingredients: oil. Not a drop in the house.
The children were still in their pajamas and the thought of dealing with organizing them in the car was more than my Saturday morning single-dad brain could cope with. I had been meaning to leave them at home alone for a while (I know this would be a better story if I could remember exactly how old they were) so I determined to dash out to the market, buy some oil, and be back before you can say, “The Department of Children and Families has determined to place your kids in foster care.”
So I sped off to the corner market. Obviously, I grabbed a few other necessary groceries while I was there Even before adolescence, my kids consumed food like a proverbial biblical plague of locusts. Needless to say, the checkout line stretched into infinity and of course, after waiting frenetically while each and every customer ahead of me counted out pennies and searched their pockets for coupons, I was sprinting back across the parking lot to the car before I remembered that I had forgotten to procure the one item I truly needed: as impossible as it seems, in my distracted state I had overlooked the oil.
Of course now I am faced with two equally impossible alternatives: I can go back in the store, get the oil, wait through the interminable checkout line AGAIN, and watch as my brain oozes out my ears as I go stark raving mad knowing that I have left my little guys home alone for too long. Or I can return home without the oil which, you have to admit, makes no sense either.
Accordingly, I went back into the market and shoplifted.
That’s right: David Altshuler, alleged moral exemplar of youth and sententious moralizer about how to model appropriate behavior, stole a bottle of canola oil. Not that I’m making a recommendation mind you, but it was easier than I might have thought. Perhaps if my career as an educational consultant and author doesn’t pan out, I can make a living as a petty thief.
The children were fine when I returned home. We made brownies, took the dog for a walk, read some Dr. Seuss, ate some brownies, had a bath, played with legos, ate some more brownies, thought about having some dinner, and went to bed well before mid-night.
Needless to say, the next day with the children safely in school, I returned to the store and, after trying unsuccessfully to explain what I had done and why–“you stole oil? What?”–just left three dollars on the counter at customer service and walked away. To the best of my knowledge, the three dollars may be there still.
My point is that anyone reading these essays who thinks that the author knows everything about parenting will be sorely disappointed. There are few precepts endorsed in these newsletters that haven’t been disproved in my own experience.
Spend time with your kids and treasure every possible moment. Well, duh. I believe strongly in both “the days are long, but the years fly” and “you’re a long time dead.” What could be more precious than seeing your kiddoodles covered in flour watching the timer waiting for the brownies to come out of the oven? But I’ve worked with families where the seagull dad swooped in only rarely to make a lot of noise and poop on everything and the kids turned out fine. So I don’t know. I guess the recipe for brownies is much more simple and straight-forward than the recipe for offspring.
Parenting might remain more art than science. Go with your gut; believe in yourself; learn from your mistakes; and try not to shop lift more often than is absolutely necessary might remain precepts.
I suspect that if you’re reading these columns that you are making the best decisions you can for your kids with love in your heart and the information available to you in a tough culture.
Good for you.
Here’s my last bit of advice for the week: stop reading my blog; get off the computer. If your kids are little, go tear up the kitchen and make some brownies. If your kids are grown and gone, give ‘em a call and ask them if they remember the time when you tore up the kitchen making brownies.
And in the meantime, make it a point to try not to get arrested.
